BIOLOGY 

LIBRARY 

G 


THE  WONDERS  OF 
ANIMAL  INGENUITY 


How  SOME  SPIDERS  ESCAPE  THEIR  ENEMIES  AND  CATCH  THEIR  PREY 

In  the  upper  illustration  a  large  centipede  is  shown  invading  the  branched  nest  of  a  trap-door  spider. 
The  centipede  has  discovered  the  second  door  of  the  nest,  but  the  spider  has  taken  refuge  in  the  upper 
branch  of  the  inner  tube  and  is  pulling  back  the  door  in  such  a  way  that  her  retreat  will  be  hidden.  'Ihe 
spider  in  the  other  large  nest,  on  the  left,  has  taken  alarm  and  is  clinging  to  the  lid  of  Jier  tube,  by  the 
little  holes  made  in  it,  to  prevent  it  being  opened.  At  the  top  of  the  picture  a  spider  is  seen  pouncing 
upon  an  insect;  another  keeps  watch  under  the  half-opened  door  of  her  nest.  Close  to  the  centipede's 
"  tail "  are  represented  the  tiny  lids  of  two  nests  made  by  "  baby  "  spiders. 

The  lower  illustration  represents  a  tarantula  pouncing  upon  a  cricket  from  the  turret  which  surrounds 
the  opening  of  her  nest. 


THE  WONDERS 

OF 

ANIMAL   INGENUITY 


BY 

H.   COUPIN,   D.Sc. 

AND 

JOHN    LEA,    M.A. 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  ROMANCE  OF  BIRD  LIFE,"  &*c. 


WITH  NINE  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PHILADELPHIA 
J.    B.    LIPPINCOTT    COMPANY 

LONDON:    SEELEY  &  CO.    LIMITED 
IQIO 


QL75/ 


J2C:  ,    - 
LIBRARY 


UNIFORM  WITH  THIS  VOLUME 

THE    WONDER    LIBRARY 

JFzV>&  ^A*  illustrations 


THE  WONDERS  OF  ANIMAL  INGENUITY.  By 
H.  COUPIN,  D.Sc.,  and  JOHN  LEA,  M.A.,  Author  of  "The 
Romance  of  Bird  Life,"  &c.  &c. 

THE  WONDERS  OF  MECHANICAL  INGENUITY.  By 
ARCHIBALD  WILLIAMS,  B.A.,  F.R.G.S.,  Author  of  "The 
Romance  of  Engineering,"  &"c.  &c. 

THE  WONDERS   OF   ASIATIC    EXPLORATION.     By 

ARCHIBALD   WILLIAMS,    B.A.,  F.R.G.S.,    Author    of  "The 
Romance  of  Early  Exploration,"  ^c.  &c. 

THE    WONDERS    OF    THE    PLANT    WORLD.      By 

Prof.  G.  F.  SCOTT  ELLIOT,  M.A.,  B.Sc.,  &c.t  Author  of  "The 
Romance  of  Early  British  Life,"  6*0.  frc. 


INTRODUCTION 

IN  the  pleasant  days  when  we  have  not  long  begun  to  look  on 
a  wonderful  world  peopled  with  beings  great  and  small  all 
living  their  busy  lives  after  their  own  fashion,  most  of  us 
are  in  some  respects  nearer  to  understanding  the  ways  of  the 
myriad  creatures  which  share  the  earth  with  us  than  we  have 
ever  the  good  fortune  to  be  in  later  years.  Before  a  sparrow 
becomes  for  us  "only"  a  sparrow,  or  we  have  been  taught  to 
associate  the  word  "horrid"  with  a  score  of  interesting  and  often 
beautiful  little  animals  which  we  meet  day  by  day,  the  things 
that  happen  in  animal-land  are  not  passed  over  with  unseeing 
eyes ;  the  earth  is  filled  with  romance,  and  we  live  in  a  true 
fairyland.  From  a  few  fortunate  ones  the  spell  is  never  lifted ; 
for  them  its  fascination  grows  stronger  with  time,  and  the  story 
becomes  constantly  more  engrossing,  for  it  is  one  whose  secret, 
though  ever  unfolding,  can  never  be  wholly  .revealed. 

5  At  first,  more  especially,  it  is  our  constant  joy  to  recognize 
everywhere  in  the  animal  world  resemblances  to  man ,  and 
each  of  us  reads  the  doings  of  its  inhabitants  according  to 
his  own  fancy.  So  long  as  we  try  to  see  truly  what  is  taking 
place,  we  may  permit  ourselves  to  be  reminded  of  similarities 
between  the  doings  of  animals  and  our  own ;  but  we  must 
be  careful  not  to  attribute  human  motives  and  reason  where 
they  have  no  existence.  That  some  animals  can  reason  in 
what  seems  a  very  human  way  is  beyond  doubt,  but  the 
very  cleverest  of  them  has  not  advanced  as  far  as  the  first 
savage  who  sharpened  a  stick  to  dig  with  or  to  use  as  a 
weapon.  On  the  other  hand,  animals  are  born  with  the  skill 
to  do  the  things  which  are  necessary  for  their  existence,  while 
man  is  born  with  little  more  than  a  greater  or  less  capacity 
for  learning.  If  we  would  spin  or  weave,  we  must  learn  to  do 


357266 


INTRODUCTION 

these  things  by  long  apprenticeship ,  but  the  first  web  made 
by  a  baby  spider  may  be  as  perfect  as  any  it  will  spin  in  the 
whole  of  its  life.  This  unconscious  memory  of  how  to  do 
things  and  how  to  act  under  various  conditions,  passed  on  from 
one  generation  to  another,  is  what  we  mean  by  "instinct,"  and 
instinct  is  a  wonderful  thing.  There  are  times  when  it  is  not 
to  be  distinguished  in  its  effects  from  reason,  as  when  it  con- 
stantly adapts  itself  to  new  conditions :  something  of  the  kind 
we  see  in  the  way  ants  behave  when  building  their  chambers 
and  galleries,  turning  every  favourable  circumstance  to  ad- 
vantage and  overcoming  many  unaccustomed  difficulties  which 
arise  in  the  course  of  their  work.  At  other  times  instinct 
appears  utterly  at  fault,  as  in  the  case  of  a  certain  woodpecker 
whose  habit  it  is  to  embed  acorns  singly  in  little  holes  which  it 
cuts  in  the  bark  of  a  tree  to  receive  them,  but  which  often 
appears  to  expend  its  labour  to  no  useful  purpose  by  storing 
up  smooth  pebbles  in  the  same  manner.  Yet  even  in  their 
mistakes  animals  do  but  present  one  more  resemblance  to  man, 
and  perhaps  if  the  gift  of  imagination  were  more  common 
amongst  them  they  would  oftener  go  astray — and  the  likeness 
would  be  still  greater. 

Nearly  all  the  constructive  activities  of  animals  are  directed 
towards  self-preservation,  or  procuring  food  or  shelter  for  them- 
selves or  their  offspring ;  their  fancy  seldom  leads  them  further, 
but  the  methods  by  which  they  attain  their  ends  are  of  a 
wonderful  variety — a  variety  infinitely  greater  than  it  would 
be  possible  to  describe  in  one  small  volume.  The  chapters  in  this 
little  book  have  been  chosen  by  the  Publishers  from  the  Author's 
larger  volume  entitled  The  Romance  of  Animal  Arts  and  Crafts. 
Should  such  examples  as  they  contain  help  to  show  how  much 
that  is  interesting  surrounds  us  wherever  we  go,  if  we  only  care 
to  see  it;  should  they  aid  even  in  a  small  degree  towards  a  greater 
love  of  animals  and  a  desire  to  observe  and  understand  their 
ways,  they  may,  perhaps,  add  a  little  to  the  romance  wherein 
lies  much  of  the  happiness  of  life. 

JOHN  LEA. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  MASTER  CRAFTSMEN  PAC 

A  persecuted  race— •"  Underground  weavers"— Our  native  repre- 
sentative— A  doubtful  tug--of-war — An  awkward  doorway — The 
trap-door  spider's  biographer — The  choice  of  a  home — The  secret 
door — A  vagrant  husband — Dangerous  courtship — How  spiders 
dig — A  careful  workman — A  pitiless  enemy — The  tapestry  frame 
— A  spider's  door-handle— The  importance  of  a  well-fitting  door 
— Eggs  within  eggs — Strenuous  resistance — The  family  at  home 
— A  living  bolt — Trapping  by  night — An  unexpected  encounter 
— The  capture — An  unfortunate  shot — The  inner  door — An  in- 
genious dwelling — An  invasion — The  secret  chamber — Infant 
phenomena— Tree-dwellers— A  versatile  family  .  .  .17 

CHAPTER  II 

EXCAVATORS  AND  MINERS 
MAMMALS 

A  national  industry — Notable  diggers — A  neglected  genius — The 
varnished  tale — Too  clever  by  half — An  underground  fortress — 
How  it  is  made — A  strange  nest — The  bolt  run — Accident  or  in- 
tention?— Building  on  the  ruins — The  fox's  home — Unscrupulous 
strategy — Arctic  foxes — Frozen  meat — The  badger's  den — A  re- 
tiring disposition — The  hamster's  dwelling — Living-room  and 
store-room — A  tell-tale  landmark — Entrance  and  exit — Well-filled 
granaries — Harvesting — Emergency  doors — Early  independence 
— Pocket-gophers — A  rare  distinction — Convenient  locomotion — 
Filling  the  pockets— ard  emptying  them — An  interesting  scene- 
Pariah  dogs — Slinking  through  life — The  fascinating  fennec — 
Prairie -marmots — "Dog-town" — An  animal  Utopia — Winter 
sleep — Sounding  the  alarm — Animal  gossip — Marmots — Summer 
and  winter  quarters — Laying  in  supplies — A  picturesque  fiction  — 
Our  old  familiar  friend  .  .  .  ...  32 

CHAPTER  III 

EXCAVATORS  AND  MINERS 
OTHER  ANIMALS 

Bird  excavators— Sand  martins — Delicate  labourers— Prodigious 
industry — The  kingfisher — A  nest  of  bones — Tortuous  burrows 
—An  unmistakable  dwelling — A  dying-  race— Larks  and  their 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

nests — Ostriches  and  their  relations — Kiwis — "Sniffing"  for 
worms— A  remarkable  egg — Tortoises— Strange  use  for  a  tail — 
Depositing  the  eggs — Interesting  behaviour — "Robber-crabs" 
— A  Munchausen-like  story— Crab  and  cocoa-nut— The  under- 
ground bed— Ghoulish  habits— Fiddler-crabs— Laughable  antics 
— Swift  land-crabs — Warning  to  trespassers — A  mile  of  crabs — 
Floods  caused  by  cray-fish— Tarantulas— A  well-planned  den— 
The  spider's  tower— Spider-eating  sheep— A  brooding  spider  .  55 

CHAPTER  IV 

MAKERS  OF  BASKET-WORK 

Stability  of  birds'  nests— Variety  of  architecture— The  typical  nest 
— Goldfinch  and  chaffinch — A  beautiful  tissue — Outside  decora- 
tions— Crossbills — The  birds  at  work — Choice  of  material — 
More  solid  structures — A  warm-blooded  race — The  perfect  in- 
cubator— A  nest  made  of  lichens — Homes  over  the  water — 
Slender  foundations — Nature's  cement — A  beautiful  cradle — 
Homes  on  the  water — Concealing  the  eggs — Floating  nests — A 
damp  bed — Building  enthusiasts — "Invisible"  nests — Birds  of 
prey— Aeries— The  lordly  eagle— Notice  of  tenancy— Piracy  on 
the  high  trees — An  interesting  faggot — The  honey-buzzard's 
screen — The  type  of  parental  devotion — Protection  and  rubbish 
— Apes  and  their  beds— A  lofty  platform— Family  parties— Paul 
Du  Chaillu's  strange  story — A  leafy  canopy — The  orang- 
outang's couch — Our  ignorance  concerning  gorillas  »  .  70 


CHAPTER  V 

ARCHITECTS  OF  SPHERICAL  DWELLINGS 

The  advantage  of  spherical  architecture — The  astute  sparrow — An 
evil  reputation — Magpie  fortifications — False  pretences — The 
wren's  many  houses — A  tiresome  partner — Catholic  tastes — 
The  squirrel's  "drey" — Changing  quarters — A  Lilliputian  genius 
— Sticklebacks'  nests — '•  Jack-sharps"  and  "tinkers"— Homeric 
combats — Making  a  home — Wedding  finery — Bringing  home 
the  partner — A  careful  father — Fierce  battles  .  93 

CHAPTER  VI 

MAKERS  OF  MOUNDS 
ANTS 

Ant-hills— The  ant's  adaptability — Rival  builders— The  roof  of  the 
nest— Doorways— Life  in  the  open— Wood  ants  compared  with 
other  species — Closing  the  doors  at  night — On  guard — Early 
morning  scene — Keeping  out  the  rain — How  a  nest  is  made — 
How  to  watch  ants  at  work— Formation  of  halls— The  living- 
room — Earth  nests  of  the  mason  ants — Methods  of  the  black 
ants — Home  of  the  brown  ant— Columns,  walls,  and  buttresses 


CONTENTS 

PAGB 

—  Streets  and  crossings  —  Range  of  nurseries — Studying  the 
weather — Night  work — Working  in  the  rain — Laying  out  a  new 
story— Building  walls— Vaulted  chambers— Putting  in  the  ceil- 
ings— Taking  advantage  of  the  rain — A  successful  ruse — Black 
ants— Marking  out  a  new  story— An  industrious  labourer— Road- 
making — An  error  of  judgment — Advantages  seized — Indepen- 
dent labour — Nature's  implements — Robbers'  caves  .  »  104 


CHAPTER  VII 

MAKERS   OF  MOUNDS 
BIRDS 

Flamingoes — Hillock  nests— A  quaint  narrative — Stalking  flamin- 
goes— An  old  story  disproved — An  albatros  "rookery" — Alba- 
tros-nesting — The  mallee-bird — Preparing  the  incubator — An 
immense  mound — Burying  the  eggs — The  Australian  mound- 
bird — Nests  upon  which  trees  sometimes  grow — A  nest  of  iron- 
stone— Digging  for  eggs  *  »  •  .  .  124 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MASONS 

Architectural  ingenuity — Mud  houses— Dauber  wasps— Catholic 
tastes — Warm  corners — Dauber's  daintiness — The  builder  at 
•work — Laying  in  provisions — Ingenious  cruelty — A  spider  bomb 
— Working  by  rote — A  fruitless  task — Building  improvements — 
Mason  bees  and  rough-cast — A  natural  cement  —  Collecting 
materials — Building  stones — Cake-making — Roofing  in — Re- 
storing old  buildings — Cupolas — The  keystone — Clusters  of 
nests— Plasterers— Sheltered  sites— Keeping  out  trespassers— 
A  stout  wall— Born  in  the  midst  of  plenty — Odynerus—k  firm 
foundation — Softening  the  ground — Excavations — A  Lilliputian 
leaning  tower— Filigree  walls— An  invader  discouraged— Fur- 
nishing the  larder — A  stack  of  bricks — Bee  hodmen— Porches 
and  sentinels  •  .  .  .  .  .  134 


CHAPTER  IX 

MORE  MASONS 

Universal  favourites— Chimney  swallows — A  peculiar  taste— A  safe 
spot — Building  materials — House  martins — Firm  foundations — 
"In  the  weather  on  the  outward  wall" — A  piteous  sight  — 
Australian  relatives  —  Bottle  nests — Working  in  gangs — The 
oven-bird's  home — "Johnny  Clay" — A  reputation  for  piety — A 
well-built  house — Singing  duets — A  burial — The  Syrian  nuthatch 
— Love  of  building — Hornbills — A  willing  prisoner — Feeding 
the  prisoners  —  Storming  the  prison  —  A  miserable  object — 
Amphibians — The  family  genius — Frogs  building  walls  .  152 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PACK 

TRAP-DOOR  SPIDfeRS           .  Frontispiece 

POCKET-GOPHERS             .  .              .              ...      46 

PRAIRIE-MARMOTS             .  .              .              ...      50 

ROBBER-CRABS   .              .  .              .              ...      64 

CHIMPANZEES  AT  HOME  .  .               .              ...      90 

STICKLEBACKS    .               .  .              .              ...     102 

ANTS'  NEST        .               .  .               .              ...     no 

ALBATROS-NESTING            .  .               .               .           .        .     127 

MALLEE-BIRD'S  MOUND    .  .              .              .           .        .    131 


THE  EOMANCE  OF 
ANIMAL  ARTS  &  CEAFTS 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  MASTER  CRAFTSMEN 

A  persecuted  race—"  Underground  weavers  " — Our  native  representative 
— A  doubtful  tug-of-war — An  awkward  doorway — The  trap-door 
spider's  biographer— The  choice  of  a  home— The  secret  door — A 
vagrant  husband— Dangerous  courtship— How  spiders  dig— A  careful 
workman— A  pitiless  enemy — The  tapestry  frame — A  spider's  door- 
handle—The importance  of  a  well-fitting  door— Eggs  within  eggs — 
Strenuous  resistance— The  family  at  home— A  living  bolt — Trapping 
by  night — An  unexpected  encounter — The  capture — An  unfortunate 
shot — The  inner  door — An  ingenious  dwelling — An  invasion — The 
secret  chamber  —  Infant  phenomena  —  Tree  -  dwellers  —  A  versatile 
family. 

AIONGST  works  so  various  as  those  we  find  in  the  wide 
range  of  nature  it  is  not  easy  to  award  the  palm ; 
some  animals  excel  in  one  industry,  some  in  another, 
and  we  cannot  say  with  certainty  to  which  class  the  pride 
of  place  belongs.     There  is,  however,  one  chapter  in  the 
tale  of  animal  arts  and  crafts  which  is  so  wonderful  that 
anybody  who   does  not  realize  the  almost  unlimited  pos- 
sibilities  of  nature   might  well  think   it  the  result  of  an 
unusually  lively  imagination  and  regard  it  as  pure  romance. 
Yet  this  strange  story  is  true  in  every  detail,  and  some  of 

17 


V  :..:;. A  PERSECUTED   RACE 

the  facts  related  in  it  are  familiar  everyday  knowledge  to 
thousands  of  people,  while  all  of  them  are  well  authenticated. 
It  is  the  story  of  the  trap-door  spiders,  which  are  not  only 
the  cleverest  representatives  of  a  talented  race,  but  occupy 
an  important  position  in  the  very  front  rank  of  Nature's 
engineers,  architects,  inventors,  and  craftsmen. 

Spiders  of  all  sorts  have  many  enemies  which  possess 
enormous  advantages  over  them  in  respect  of  either  strength 
or  agility,  or  both  combined :  enemies  with  wings,  swift  in 
movement  and  able  to  retreat  where  their  opponent  cannot 
follow  them;  enemies  with  stings  deadly  as  the  terrible 
urari-poisoned  arrow,  watchful,  merciless,  quick  to  attack ; 
enemies  clad  in  an  impenetrable  coat  of  mail,  against  which 
the  spider's  weapons  are  powerless,  whilst  the  spider's  own 
body  is  soft  and  vulnerable.  But  the  spiders  are  themselves 
hunters  and  trappers,  expert  as  any,  and  the  exigencies  of 
their  existence  make  it  necessary  for  them  to  capture  prey 
which  has  many  physical  advantages  on  its  side. 

These  difficulties  and  dangers  have  been  met  by  a  multi- 
tude of  clever  contrivances,  and  if  invention  and  skill  are  to 
be  regarded  as  some  sort  of  index  of  intellectual  develop- 
ment, it  is  a  little  startling  to  realize  how  far  the  spiders 
are  in  advance  of  our  near  relations,  the  man-like  apes. 

The  family  of  spiders  is,  we  have  good  reason  to  believe, 
a  very  ancient  one  ;  it  is  spread  far  and  wide  over  the  earth, 
and  it  is  not  surprising  to  find  that,  with  some  fundamental 
characters  in  common,  various  branches  of  the  family  have 
developed  special  activities,  and  that  some  excel  in  one 
direction  and  some  in  another.  What  is  truly  astonishing 
is  the  skill  they  exhibit  in  solving  difficult  problems,  and  the 
highly  complex  character  of  their  undertakings. 

Amongst  them  all,  none  are  more  intensely  interesting 
than  the  trap-door  spiders,  which  belong  to  the  tribe  known 

18 


OUR  NATIVE  REPRESENTATIVE 

as  Territelarice,  or  "underground  weavers."  In  England  we 
have  no  trap-door-making  spiders,  but  the  tribe  is  repre- 
sented by  one  species  which  works  in  the  same  way  as  its 
more  talented  relatives  up  to  a  certain  point,  though  it  has 
not  hit  upon  the  idea  of  fitting  a  door  to  its  dwelling.  This 
spider,  called  Atypus  Sulzeri,  was,  I  believe,  first  found  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  London  and  Exeter.  You  are  not  likely 
to  meet  with  it  very  often,  but  perhaps  it  is  commoner  than 
it  is  generally  supposed  to  be,  for  its  house  is  not  as  a  rule  a 
conspicuous  object  in  the  landscape,  and  the  number  of 
people  who  go  out  of  their  way  to  make  friends  of  spiders 
is  not  large ;  on  the  contrary,  most  people  go  out  of  their 
way  to  avoid  them,  and  thereby  are  the  losers — at  least, 
that  must  be  the  opinion  of  everybody  who  has  the  privilege 
of  being  even  moderately  well  acquainted  with  these  delight- 
ful and  learned  creatures. 

Atypus  Sulzeri  is  an  unobtrusive  little  spider  that  usually 
makes  its  home  in  banks  where  the  earth  is  moist,  digging  a 
subterranean  gallery  which  starts  almost  horizontally,  but 
curves  downwards  a  little  towards  the  inner  end.  In  this 
tunnel  it  spins  a  compact  tube  of  whitish  silk,  about  half  an 
inch  in  diameter,  which  completely  lines  the  cavity.  The 
tube  does  not  stop  short  at  the  mouth  of  the  burrow,  but  is 
continued  for  several  inches  over  the  surface  of  the  ground. 
It  is  sometimes  described  as  being  closed  at  both  ends,  and 
sometimes  as  having  the  external  end  left  open.  I  have 
only  once,  and  that  many  years  ago,  come  upon  a  nest  of 
this  spider,  which  I  found  in  a  damp  hedge-bank  in  Hamp- 
shire, not  very  far  from  Selborne.1  There  was  a  rent  or  slit 
in  the  top  of  the  tube  near  the  free  end,  but  as  the  spider 
was  "  not  at  home  "  it  would  be  unsafe  to  draw  any  conclu- 
sions from  that  one  single  instance.  Perhaps  the  owner  had 

1  J.  L. 
19 


AN  AWKWARD   DOORWAY 

for  some  reason  decided  to  have  a  new  dwelling  and,  not 
having  a  doorway,  had  been  obliged  to  make  a  hole  in  the 
wall  in  order  to  walk  out  of  the  old  one ;  at  all  events  the 
hole  was  there.  Atypus  is  said  to  feed  on  insects  that 
alight  on  the  outside  of  the  tube,  approaching  cautiously, 
and  invisible  all  the  while,  along  the  inside  until  directly 
underneath  the  intended  victim,  which  is  then  seized  through 

y  o 

the  wall :  a  hole  is  torn  in  the  web,  the  prey  is  dragged  in- 
side, and  the  rent  repaired  by  the  spider,  who  retires  under- 
ground to  devour  her  captive  at  leisure.  It  has  also  been 
stated  that  this  spider  eats  earth-worms,  which  are  intro- 
duced into  the  den  through  the  inner  portion  of  the  tube ; 
but  any  one  who  has  observed  the  swiftness  with  which  a 
worm  retreats  into  its  burrow  when  alarmed,  or  the  very 
effective  resistance  it  offers  to  forcible  removal,  will  have 
difficulty  in  believing  that  a  weak-limbed  spider  could  ever 
succeed  in  getting  the  better  of  one  in  a  tug-of-war. 

Our  British  Territelarian,  then,  excavates  a  dwelling  and 
covers  the  walls  with  silken  tapestry,  which  is  continued 
through  the  doorway  into  the  open  air  in  the  form  of  a 
long,  narrow  bag.  Every  time  the  inhabitant  wishes  to 
walk  abroad,  or  has  occasion  to  take  in  supplies,  she  is  obliged 
to  cut  a  hole  in  the  bag  and  repair  it  again  afterwards — 
an  arrangement  which  does  not  strike  one  as  being  very  con- 
venient, though  it  is  certainly  effective  from  one  point  of 
view,  for  it  makes  it  quite  impossible  for  undesirable  visitors, 
such  as  wasps  and  ichneumon-flies,  to  gain  admission  to  the 
habitation.  The  true  trap-door  spiders  attain  the  same  end 
in  a  far  more  ingenious  manner,  as  we  shall  see.  They 
inhabit  warm  countries  all  round  the  globe,  and  are  espe- 
cially plentiful  in  Jamaica.  In  Europe  they  are  found  on  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  where  they  were  studied  by  their 
famous  biographer,  Mr.  Moggridge,  who  devoted  the  leisure 

20 


THE   CHOICE   OF  A   HOME 

of  an   invalid  life  to  observing  their  ways  and   recording 
their  doings,  and  then  wrote  a  beautiful  book  about  them. 

Like  our  Atypus,  the  true  trap-door  spiders  dig  a  deep 
hole  in  the  ground  and  line  it  with  silk  to  prevent  the  sides 
from  falling  in,  but  they  add  a  neat  little  door  to  keep  out 
the  rain  and  other  troublesome  things.  The  burrow  is 
usually  placed  in  a  sloping  bank,  or  in  an  old,  crumbling 
terrace  wall,  where  there  are  mosses  and  lichens  growing  in 
patches,  or  creeping  plants  trailing  over  the  ground.  The 
door,  built  of  layers  of  silk,  strengthened  and  solidified 
with  particles  of  soil,  is  round,  and  has  a  strong  silken 
hinge  at  one  side.  When  situated  on  sloping  ground,  the 
hinge  is  attached  to  the  edge  of  the  door  at  the  highest 
point,  so  that  the  door  has  a  tendency  to  "  swing  to  "  by  its 
own  weight  after  being  opened,  the  closing  being  also 
assisted  by  the  elastic  nature  of  the  hinge.  Now  you  may 
suppose  these  round,  silken  doors  dotted  over  the  dark  earth 
are  almost  as  conspicuous  as  silver  coins  lying  upon  the 
ground,  and  make  the  discovery  of  the  spiders1  home  a  very 
easy  matter.  In  that  case  you  underestimate  the  genius 
of  the  little  creature,  which  would  never  permit  her  to 
advertise  her  presence  in  such  a  reckless  manner.  Instead  of 
doing  so,  she  disguises  or  conceals  the  entrance  to  her  home 
with  admirable  art  by  planting  moss  on  the  outside  of  the 
door — living  moss  taken  from  the  immediate  neighbourhood 
— so  that  the  top  of  the  nest  harmonizes  perfectly  with  its 
surroundings  and  is  often  exceedingly  difficult  to  detect, 
its  discovery  being  in  many  cases  made  more  difficult  by  the 
fact  that  in  her  careful  choice  of  a  site  for  her  dwelling  the 
spider  appears  to  be  influenced  by  the  presence  of  patches 
of  white  lichen  which  distract  the  eye.  Some  species 
adopt  a  different  method,  weaving  into  the  structure,  or 
fastening  on  with  silk,  dead  leaves,  bits  of  stick,  grasses  or 
B  21 


DANGEROUS   COURTSHIP 

roots.  Of  these,  dead  leaves  are  decidedly  the  most  effective, 
for  unless  they  be  removed  the  door  is  absolutely  invisible, 
however  carefully  you  may  search  for  it. 

In  speaking  of  the  spider  as  "  she  "  we  are  literally  correct, 
for  the  male  appears  to  take  no  part  whatever  in  designing, 
constructing,  or  decorating  the  dwelling,  and  is  seldom 
found  inhabiting  it  even  as  the  temporary  guest  of  his 
mate.  Amongst  spiders  in  general  it  is  rare  indeed  to  find 
the  sexes  associating;  it  is  not  in  the  nature  of  the  female 
to  live  in  harmony  with  her  mate,  and  should  he  be  bold 
enough  to  make  tender  advances,  the  reception  he  meets 
with  is  often  highly  discouraging.  Courtship  is  for  him  a 
proceeding  fraught  with  danger;  the  female  has  to  be 
approached  with  the  utmost  circumspection,  and  even  when, 
after  much  careful  wooing,  she  appears  to  be  "  in  a  holiday 
humour,  and  like  enough  to  consent,"  he  must  still  be  alert 
and  distrustful,  for  the  "cruel  fair"  has  been  known  to 
prefer,  on  sudden  impulse,  a  headless  mate,  and  at  last  to 
eat  him !  It  is  for  this  reason  probably  that  male  spiders 
are  almost  invariably  of  lighter  build,  swifter,  smaller,  and 
altogether  more  agile  than  the  females,  for  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  race  the  individuals  who  excelled  in  these 
respects  would  stand  a  better  chance  of  surviving  the  court- 
ship. But  we  must  leave  the  arts  and  crafts  of  a  spider's 
wooing,  and  return  to  those  with  which  we  are  more  properly 
concerned.  The  male,  then,  is  seldom  met  with ;  he  does 
not  share  the  nest,  but  seems  to  live  a  vagrant  life,  camping 
out,  so  to  speak,  in  holes  and  crannies ;  so  we  may  dismiss 
him  from  our  minds  and  turn  our  attention  to  the  female. 
Let  us  watch  her  at  work  while  she  makes  her  wonderful 
nest.  In  the  first  place  there  is  a  shaft  to  be  sunk  in  the 
ground,  and  if  she  be  a  well-grown  spider  (that  is  to  say 
from  three-quarters  of  an  inch  to  an  inch  in  length),  begin- 

22 


HOW  SPIDERS   DIG 

ning  an  entirely  new  nest,  the  tunnel  she  has  to  dig  will  be 
about  an  inch  in  diameter,  and  perhaps  nine  inches  in  depth. 
The  excavation  of  such  a  tunnel  is  no  small  undertaking, 
for  these  spiders  are  not  very  swift  in  their  movements,  and 
the  digging  is  done  principally  with  the  mandibles  and  their 
fangs,  the  legs  taking  no  part  in  the  proceeding.  In  other 
families  of  spiders  the  mandibles  strike  sideways,  but  in  the 
Territelarice  they  strike  downwards,  a  modification  which  is 
probably  connected  with  their  digging  habits.  The  earth 
is  removed  in  tiny  pellets  and  taken  some  distance  away 
from  the  nest,  every  pellet  being  carried  forward  in  the  jaws 
and  deposited  separately  on  the  tip.  It  is  a  slow  process, 
but  in  an  hour  the  spider  succeeds  in  digging  a  hole  about 
the  size  of  half  a  walnut.  As  it  becomes  deeper  the  removal 
of  the  fragments  becomes  more  laborious,  but  no  other 
method  appears  to  be  adopted.  Before  the  tunnel  has  attained 
any  great  length  the  spider,  like  a  good  engineer,  very 
wisely  shores  up  the  walls  with  patches  of  silk  to  prevent 
them  falling  in  upon  her,  and  afterwards  covers  them  entirely 
with  several  layers  of  the  same  material.  She  also  makes 
the  door  before  the  excavation  is  finished,  and  a  moment's 
consideration  will  show  the  advantage  of  this  order  of  pro- 
cedure. The  labour  is  long  and  occupies  a  considerable 
time,  and  while  so  engaged  the  spider  is  especially  open  to 
attack.  Mr.  Bates  stated  that  he  had  frequently  seen  certain 
species  of  the  genus  Pepsis,  insects  which  are  allied  to  wasps, 
on  the  Amazon,  hawking  over  the  ground  where  the  huge 
trap-door  spiders  lived,  and  suddenly  pouncing  down  upon 
one  of  these  creatures,  often  many  times  larger  than  them- 
selves ;  then,  after  paralysing  their  victim  with  their  sting, 
they  would  deliberately  saw  off  the  legs  before  dragging 
away  the  body.  With  such  terrible  enemies  to  harass  her, 
it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  spider  prefers  to  work 

23 


THE   TAPESTRY  FRAME 

under  cover ;  and  as  to  the  silk  lining,  it  forms  a  foothold 
far  firmer  and  safer  than  would  be  afforded  by  the  loose  soil 
while  she  is  passing  to  and  fro  with  her  loads  of  earth. 

At  length  the  excavation  is  completed,  and  the  finishing 
touches  are  then  given  to  the  lining.  The  first  or  outer 
layers  are  coarse  and  irregular,  while  their  colour  is  brownish, 
possibly  owing  to  their  being  stained  by  contact  with  the 
earth.  The  inner  layers,  on  the  contrary,  are  light  in  colour 
and  of  fine  texture,  closely  woven,  smooth  and  compact, 
resembling  in  appearance  fine  kid.  The  mouth  of  the  tube 
is  made  very  strong  and  tough,  and  is  usually  from  an 
eighth  to  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in  thickness. 

The  lining  is  continuous  with  that  of  the  door,  of  which 
it  also  forms  the  hinge — indeed  the  door  may  be  regarded  as 
simply  a  bit  of  the  wall  bent  at  right  angles.  When  build- 
ing it,  the  spider  attaches  it  by  ties  at  a  number  of  points 
around  the  edge  to  the  margin  of  the  tube;  it  is  thus 
woven  on  a  frame,  just  as  mediaeval  tapestry  was  wrought 
upon  a  frame,  and  the  ties  are  severed  afterwards,  the  spider 
biting  through  them  until  the  edges  of  the  door  are  free 
everywhere  except  at  the  hinge.  One  species  inhabiting 
the  Ionian  Islands  adds  to  the  outside,  above  the  hinge,  a 
spur-like  projection  which  is  supposed  to  be  a  lever  by 
means  of  which  the  spider  can  open  her  door  conveniently 
when  returning  home  from  an  expedition. 

The  doors  are  of  two  kinds,  quite  distinct  from  one 
another.  Those  made  by  spiders  of  the  genus  Nemesia, 
abundant  in  the  Riviera,  and  by  a  West  Indian  species 
named  Cteniza  nidulans,  are  thin,  light,  and  composed 
entirely  of  silk ;  these  belong  to  what  is  known  as  the 
"  wafer  "  type,  and  being  larger  than  the  mouth  of  the  tube 
they  lie  on  the  ground  over  the  aperture — or  to  be  accurate, 
they  rest  upon  the  mouth  of  the  tube,  which  spreads  out  at 

24 


STRENUOUS  RESISTANCE 

its  edge  into  a  wide  flange.  The  other  sort  of  door  is  thick 
and  heavy,  being  built  up  of  a  number  of  layers  of  earth 
and  silk.  It  is  beautifully  bevelled  around  the  edge,  and 
fits  tightly  into  the  mouth  of  the  tube,  which  is  similarly 
bevelled  to  receive  it — just  as  a  cork  fits  into  the  neck  of  a 
wide-mouthed  bottle;  hence  this  kind  of  nest  is  known  as 
the  "  cork  "  type.  We  need  not  be  surprised  that  the  spider 
takes  care  to  have  a  well-fitting  door;  it  is  an  important 
matter,  for  there  are  certain  minute  hymenopterous  insects 
which  lay  their  eggs  inside  the  eggs  of  spiders  whenever 
they  get  a  chance  of  doing  so,  and  these  intrusive  little 
creatures  must  be  kept  out  of  the  nest  at  all  costs.  All  the 
same,  the  perfection  of  workmanship  with  which  the  cork 
doors  are  constructed  is  amazing;  when  closed,  they  are 
exactly  flush  with  the  surface  of  the  ground;  they  fit  so 
neatly  that  they  are  quite  difficult  to  detect,  and  so  tightly 
that  they  resist  opening  even  when  the  spider  is  away; 
while  they  are  so  substantially  constructed  that  collectors'* 
specimens  have  been  opened  and  shut  hundreds  of  times 
without  being  materially  damaged.  It  is  on  the  cork  doors 
that  we  find  the  larger  mosses  growing,  the  wafer  nests  being 
usually  disguised  with  fragments  of  dead  vegetation. 

When  at  home,  some  spiders  resist  any  attempt  at  forcing 
an  entrance  into  their  dwellings  with  all  their  might.  All 
the  cork-nest  spiders  offer  resistance,  and  though  it  is  not 
very  easy  to  observe  exactly  what  is  going  on  inside  a  nest, 
Mr.  Moggridge,  after  many  attempts,  succeeded  in  doing  so. 
He  forcibly  raised  the  lid  of  a  cork  nest  a  fraction  of  an 
inch — only  just  enough  to  enable  him  to  peer  inside  through 
the  cranny.  He  then  observed  the  spider  hanging  on  to  the 
lid  with  its  fangs  and  all  its  claws  driven  into  the  silk  lining 
on  the  under  surface,  its  head  being  turned  away  from  the 
hinge,  and  its  body  jammed  across  the  tube.  The  resistance 

25 


A  LIVING   BOLT 

they  can  offer  is  very  considerable.  Mr.  Moggridge  says, 
"  Many  a  time  when  I  have  wished  to  raise  the  lid  to  drop 
in  flies  or  other  food,  I  have  been  obliged  to  desist  because 
the  bending  blade  of  my  penknife  showed  that  I  should 
injure  the  nest  if  I  used  greater  force.11  Nemesia  ccementaria^ 
a  native  of  Southern  Europe,  is  very  courageous  and  deter- 
mined in  this  respect.  On  the  left  side  of  our  picture  (p.  30) 
you  will  see  a  representation  of  one  of  these  spiders  inside 
her  nest,  which  is  an  excellent  example  of  the  "  cork "  type. 
She  has  taken  alarm  at  the  commotion  going  on  outside  her 
front  door,  and  has  taken  up  her  post  in  readiness  to  guard 
her  home.  Around  her  are  assembled  her  children,  for  like 
some  other  animals,  though  the  spider  is  incapable  of  living  in 
harmony  with  her  mate  and  can  scarcely  bring  herself  to  toler- 
ate his  society,  she  may  be  an  excellent  mother,  and  it  is  no 
uncommon  circumstance  to  find  in  the  nest  of  a  trap-door 
spider  a  number  of  little  ones — sometimes  over  forty,  at 
others  only  two  or  three. 

Around  the  margin  of  a  cork  lid,  just  inside  the  bevelled 
part,  there  is  often  a  neat  row  of  tiny  holes  which  occur  in 
pairs,  and  look  as  though  they  had  been  made  with  a  needle. 
In  the  part  next  the  hinge  there  are  no  holes,  but  they  are 
found  at  intervals  along  the  remainder  of  the  circumference 
of  the  lid,  just  as  they  appear  on  the  open  lid  of  a  nest  near 
the  left  of  our  picture.  These  are  the  holes  in  which  the 
spider  has  placed  her  claws  and  fangs  when  holding  on  to 
the  door,  and  the  arrangement  enables  her  to  obtain  a  very 
firm  grip.  A  nest  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Gosse  had  needle 
holes  in  the  side  of  the  tube  as  well  as  in  the  lid,  and  there 
seems  to  be  little  doubt  that  the  spider  sometimes  takes 
hold  of  the  door  with  some  of  her  feet  and  clings  tightly 
to  the  wall  of  the  burrow  with  the  others,  thus  resisting  still 
more  effectively  any  intrusion  into  her  stronghold. 

26 


AN  UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER 

Most  of  the  trap-door  spiders  are  nocturnal  in  their 
habits ;  they  spend  the  day  shut  up  closely  indoors  and  go 
out  hunting  at  night  time,  or  lie  in  wait  at  the  mouth  of  the 
nest,  with  the  lid  slightly  raised,  peering  out  of  the  chink 
in  readiness  to  pounce  upon  their  prey.  The  majority  seem 
to  close  the  door  after  them  when  leaving  home,  but  the 
Cteniza  arlana  of  the  island  of  Tinos,  in  the  Greek  Archi- 
pelago, emerge  about  nine  o'clock,  and  fasten  their  doors 
open  by  a  few  threads  attached  to  any  convenient  grass  stems 
or  little  stones.  They  then  spread  a  long,  low  snare  close  to 
the  ground,  and  return  to  their  holes  to  await  the  cap- 
ture of  a  beetle  or  some  other  night-wandering  insect,  which 
is  promptly  dragged  to  the  den  and  eaten  ;  the  fragments  of 
the  feast  are  then  carefully  removed  and  deposited  at  a  dis- 
tance of  several  feet  from  the  nest. 

There  are,  however,  a  few  trap-door  spiders  that  venture 
abroad  during  the  day.  Such  spiders  are  found,  for  instance, 
in  both  California  and  New  South  Wales,  and  they  leave 
their  doors  open  while  they  are  away.  Others  come  out  at 
dusk,  and  it  was  one  of  these  which  first  gave  me  an  oppor- 
tunity of  becoming  personally  acquainted  with  a  trap-door 
spider — an  event  which,  when  unexpected,  is  apt  to  give 
rise  to  a  momentary  feeling  of  surprise  and  bewilderment.1 
It  was  towards  the  close  of  a  warm  day  in  Morocco,  and 
I  was  resting  awhile  by  the  side  of  a  small  orange  grove  on 
a  low  bank  topped  with  aloes,  enjoying  the  indescribable 
fragrance  of  the  orange  blossom,  but  conscious  all  the  same 
of  the  necessity  for  keeping  a  pretty  sharp  look-out  for  ants 
and  other  creatures  calculated  to  interfere  with  one's 
appreciation  of  the  tranquillity  of  the  scene.  Close  beside 
me  was  something  that  looked  like  a  bit  of  leathery  fungus 
or  a  small  fragment  of  bark  ;  I  should  not  have  noticed  it  at 

1  J.  L. 
27 


AN  UNFORTUNATE   SHOT 

all  if  it  had  not  moved  slightly.  I  was  on  the  point  of  turn- 
ing it  over  with  a  small  grass  stem  to  see  what  was  beneath 
it,  when  it  was  suddenly  raised  on  its  edge,  and  a  smallish 
dark -coloured  spider  appeared.  I  suppose  some  sudden 
movement  on  my  part  alarmed  it,  for  it  immediately  darted 
back  again  and  clapped  the  door  down,  so  that  there  was 
nothing  to  be  seen  but  the  little  patch  which  I  had  mistaken 
for  a  fragment  of  bark,  but  which  was  really,  of  course,  the 
lid  of  a  nest.  At  the  moment  the  incident  was  as  startling 
as  the  opening  of  one  of  those  toys  known  as  "  Jack-in-the- 
box,11  for  trap-door  spiders  are  not,  so  far  as  I  was  able  to 
discover,  very  common  in  Morocco,  and  I  had  not  the  least 
expectation  of  coming  upon  one — certainly  not  at  that 
particular  time.  After  a  while  the  spider  again  ventured 
into  the  open,  and  I  was  careful  to  remain  quite  still  until 
it  had  proceeded  to  some  little  distance  from  its  nest, 
when  I  managed  to  secure  it,  intending  to  take  it  home  to 
examine  at  leisure,  for  by  that  time  the  light  was  failing. 
But  a  difficulty  presented  itself:  I  had  no  box  to  put  it  in, 
and  not  even  a  scrap  of  paper  out  of  which  I  might  make  a 
small  bag;  however,  the  spider  was  not  large — not  more 
than  half  an  inch  in  length  excluding  the  legs,  and  I 
managed  with  some  difficulty  to  introduce  it  into  the  barrel 
of  my  *380  bore  Colt,  making  all  snug  by  screwing  a  leaf  into 
the  muzzle,  whereupon  I  started  upon  my  way  rejoicing  over 
an  interesting  capture.  But  "  theiVs  many  a  slip,11  etc., 
and  so  it  proved  in  this  case,  for  on  the  road  some  half- 
dozen  mongrels,  of  the  sort  that  are  known  in  Egypt  as 
pariah  dogs,  which  were  disturbed  while  snarling  over  a 
loathsome  supper  of  dead  mule,  made  themselves  objection- 
able, and  as  stones  proved  of  no  avail  I  thoughtlessly  fired 
my  revolver  to  frighten  them  away,  and  thus,  to  my  lasting 
regret,  made  a  living  projectile  of  my  prize.  What  species 

28 


AN   INGENIOUS   DWELLING 

it  belonged  to  I  am  therefore  unable  to  say ;  probably  it  was 
the  Cteniza  cedificatoria,  for  though  the  lid  of  its  nest  fitted 
into  the  tube,  it  was  not  so  stoutly  built  as  the  ordinary 
cork  lid,  and  was  rather  oval  in  outline. 

So  far  we  have  only  considered  the  very  simplest  kind  of 
habitation — that  is  to  say,  nests  consisting  of  a  single 
chamber  closed  by  a  single  door.  Many  spiders,  however, 
construct  dwellings  of  more  elaborate  architecture,  the  first 
step  in  advance  being  the  addition  of  a  second  door  part  way 
down  the  tube.  This  style  is  affected  by  Nemesia  Eleanora^ 
of  the  Riviera,  who  places  a  wafer  at  the  top  of  the  tube  and, 
from  two  to  four  inches  below  this,  a  solid  underground 
door  of  earth  encased  in  silk.  The  upper  door  conceals  the 
aperture  of  the  nest,  while  the  lower  one,  which  opens  in  the 
opposite  direction,  that  is  to  say  downwards,  serves  for 
resistance.  The  inner  door  is  horseshoe-shaped,  and  lest  it 
should  be  moved  too  far  up  when  closed,  or  become  jammed 
and  thus  imprison  the  spider  in  her  own  nest,  she  ingeniously 
attaches  a  silk  gusset  to  it  on  each  side. 

The  next  advance  is  made  by  those  spiders  which  dig  a 
side  gallery  to  the  burrow  and  place  the  second  door  at  the 
junction  of  the  two  tunnels.  The  scheme  of  some  of  these 
branched  nests  is  very  complicated,  and  requires  such  nice 
adjustment  in  being  carried  out  that  we  seem  to  reach  at 
this  point  the  very  acme  of  animal  ingenuity.  On  the  right 
of  our  picture  there  is  represented  a  beautiful  example  of 
such  a  nest  made  by  Nemesia  Manderstjemce,  a  species  which, 
like  the  last  named,  is  found  in  the  Riviera.  This  nest  is 
shaped,  roughly,  like  a  St.  Andrew"^  cross.  The  inner  door, 
which  is  tongue-shaped  and  has  a  tab  at  the  end  which 
serves  as  a  handle,  is  hung  from  the  point  of  the  V-shaped 
mass  between  the  two  upper  arms  of  the  X,  and  can  be 
swung  at  will  either  against  the  point  of  the  A  between  the 

29 


INFANT  PHENOMENA 

two  lower  arms  of  the  X  (in  the  picture  you  will  see  the  end 
of  a  root  in  the  earth  just  where  I  mean),  or  back  against 
the  opposite  side  of  the  gallery  (close  to  that  rather  large 
fragment  of  stone  on  the  right),  thus  dividing  the  right 
upper  arm  of  the  cross  from  the  rest  of  the  habitation.  Let 
us  now  suppose  that  while  the  spider  is  at  home  some 
dangerous  enemy,  such  as  the  centipede  represented  in  the 
picture,  discovers  the  entrance  to  the  nest  and  ventures 
inside.  What  will  happen  ?  The  spider,  who  has  probably 
offered  no  resistance  at  the  upper  or  wafer  door,  on  finding 
her  home  invaded,  immediately  retreats  to  the  lower  part  of 
the  burrow  and  slams  the  swing  door  in  the  face  of  the 
intruder,  who,  having  explored  the  upper  tube  and  found  it 
empty,  may  depart  believing  the  nest  to  be  tenantless.  But 
supposing  the  inner  door  should  be  discovered,  as  in  the 
case  depicted,  and  that  the  spider  should  be  beaten  in  the 
pushing  match  which  follows,  she  then  slips  into  the  upper 
part  of  the  inner  gallery,  the  door  is  closed  over  the  secret 
passage — the  invader  on  this  occasion  unwittingly  aiding  in 
the  manoeuvre — and  our  centipede,  descending  precipitately 
to  the  bottom  of  the  gallery,  once  more  finds  his  victim  has 
escaped  him  !  There  the  matter  probably  ends ;  but  in  the 
unlikely  event  of  the  secret  upper  den  being  discovered  and 
the  door  forced  once  more,  there  is  still  a  chance  of  retreat, 
for  this  chamber  is  roofed  over  with  a  thin  cover  of  silk  and 
earth  which  could  easily  be  torn  away  in  case  of  need.  What 
could  be  more  ingenious  ? 

The  most  wonderful  fact,  however,  remains  to  be  stated : 
baby  spiders,  not  larger  than  small  flies,  make  tiny  nests  for 
themselves  which  reproduce  perfectly  in  miniature  the  upper 
door,  lower  door,  main  tube,  and  branch !  The  lids  of  some 
of  these  astonishing  nests  are  indicated  in  the  picture ;  they 
are  sometimes  scarcely  one-twelfth  part  of  an  inch  in  diameter. 

30 


A  VERSATILE   FAMILY 

Whether  the  young  spider  makes  careful  observations  during 
the  early  days  spent  in  the  parental  home  and  reproduces  its 
architecture  in  detail  from  these  mental  notes  when  the  time 
comes  to  set  up  house  on  her  own  account,  or  whether  she 
is  able  to  turn  out  a  masterpiece  by  what  we,  to  cloak  our 
ignorance,  conveniently  term  "blind  instinct,"  and  without 
any  previous  technical  self-education,  I  cannot  say ;  but  the 
facts  are  as  stated. 

Some  of  the  trap-door  spiders,  like  the  South  African 
Moggridgea,  have  taken  to  an  arboreal  life,  and  make  their 
homes  upon  the  trunks  of  trees  by  first  building  a  silken 
framework  in  some  natural  crevice  of  the  bark  and  then 
covering  it  over  with  a  coating  of  wood-chips  and  lichen ; 
others,  such  as  the  Pseudidiops  of  South  America,  hollow  out 
their  own  crevices  by  cutting  away  the  bark  with  fangs  and 
mandibles. 

Carpenters,  weavers,  miners,  engineers,  and  architects, 
skilled  in  everything  they  attempt,  the  trap-door  spiders  by 
their  versatility  may  claim  to  be  the  master  craftsmen  of  the 
animal  world. 


CHAPTER  II 
EXCAVATORS   AND   MINERS 

MAMMALS 

A  national  industry — Notable  diggers— A  neglected  genius — The  var- 
nished tale — Too  clever  by  half — An  underground  fortress — How  it  is 
made — A  strange  nest — The  bolt  run — Accident  or  intention  ? — Build- 
ing on  the  ruins — The  fox's  home — Unscrupulous  strategy — Arctic 
foxes — Frozen  meat — The  badger's  den — A  retiring  disposition — The 
hamster's  dwelling— Living-room  and  store-room — A  tell-tale  land- 
mark—  Entrance  and  exit — Well-filled  granaries  —  Harvesting  — 
Emergency  doors— Early  independence— Pocket-gophers— A  rare  dis- 
tinction—Convenient locomotion — Filling  the  pockets — and  emptying 
them — An  interesting  scene— Pariah  dogs— Slinking  through  life— 
The  fascinating  fennec — Prairie-marmots — "  Dog-town  " — An  animal 
Utopia  —  Winter  sleep  —  Sounding  the  alarm  —  Animal  gossip — 
Marmots  —  Summer  and  winter  quarters  —  Laying  in  supplies  —  A 
picturesque  fiction — Our  old  familiar  friend. 

OF  all  animal  dwellings,  those  which  are  hollowed  out 
of  the  earth  are  perhaps  the  most  numerous,  and  we 
find  them,  of  one  sort  or  another,  made  by  members 
of  almost  every  branch  of  the  animal  kingdom. 

The  Mammalia  in  particular  are  notable  excavators; 
digging  is,  indeed,  their  national  industry,  as  nest-building 
is  that  of  birds. 

The  Mole  (Talpa  Europcea)  is  perhaps  the  most  expert  of 
all  burrowing  animals,  and  its  whole  structure  is  beautifully 
adapted  to  its  mode  of  life.  Its  snout  is  tough  and  pointed, 
and  it  has  broad,  powerful  fore-paws  armed  with  claws  of 
great  strength,  by  means  of  which  it  makes  its  way  through 

32 


NOTABLE  DIGGERS 

the  ground  with  surprising  ease.  As  a  rule  it  works  quite 
close  to  the  surface  —  so  near,  indeed,  when  tunnelling 
through  loose  soil,  that  the  earth  over  the  burrows  is 
elevated  into  ridges,  by  means  of  which,  as  well  as  by  the 
actual  movement  of  the  ground,  the  animal's  course  can  be 
traced  without  difficulty.  A  very  considerable  part  of  its 
existence  is  spent  in  making  these  burrows,  for  the  mole  not 
only  excavates  a  dwelling  underground,  but  hunts  there  day 
by  day  for  its  food,  and  as  it  is  an  extraordinarily  voracious 
little  creature  you  will  readily  understand  that  its  energy  in 
burrowing  is  very  great.  In  a  single  night  it  often  digs  a 
passage  many  yards  in  length — a  tremendous  achievement 
for  so  small  an  animal. 

As  the  mole  advances  in  his  hunting  grounds,  he  disposes 
of  the  earth  he  has  scooped  out  by  throwing  it  up  at 
intervals  upon  the  surface  of  the  ground,  thus  making  those 
little  hillocks  which  are  so  well  known  to  everybody  as 
"  mole-hills.""  It  is  not  in  these  small  mole-hills  that  the 
animal  dwells  ;  his  habitation,  or  "  fortress,"  as  it  is  called,  is 
a  far  larger  structure,  which  usually  measures  a  foot  or  more 
in  height  and  three  feet  in  diameter.  Considering  how 
extremely  common  moles  are,  it  appears  strange  that  few 
people  are  at  all  familiar  with  their  habits ;  but  then  we 
must  bear  in  mind  that  its  subterranean  life  makes  this 
a  very  difficult  creature  to  observe.  At  the  same  time,  had 
it  been  a  very  rare  animal,  and  only  met  with  very  occasion- 
ally, it  would  probably  have  received  far  more  attention ;  for 
those  who  concern  themselves  to  observe  what  lies  at  their 
feet  during  a  country  ramble  are  few,  and  almost  the  only 
people  who  take  any  interest  in  this  remarkable  animal  are 
the  farmers  whose  land  it  disfigures  with  piled-up  heaps  of 
earth,  and  the  men  they  employ  to  free  their  property  from 
the  pest.  Both  classes,  naturally  enough,  regard  the  mole  as 

33 


THE   VARNISHED   TALE 

"  varmint,""  and  all  they  care  about  is  its  destruction. 
The  few  other  people  who  are  really  interested  in  the 
animal's  works  and  ways  unfortunately  seldom  take  the 
trouble — and  not  a  little  trouble  is  called  for — to  observe 
its  habits  for  themselves;  they  are  content  to  read  the 
account  given  by  another  man,  who  has  himself  relied  on 
what  some  one  else  has  written,  and  so  forth,  until  at  last  a 
time-honoured  tradition  arises,  and  nobody  thinks  of  in- 
quiring whether  or  not  it  is  a  true  one.  Of  course,  if  the 
man  who  told  the  story  first  watched  the  animal  very  care- 
fully, and  wrote  down  just  exactly  what  he  saw,  and  if  the 
other  people  copied  very  carefully  what  he  wrote,  no  great 
harm  would  be  done,  though  it  would  be  better  if  they  all 
used  their  eyes  now  and  then  to  make  sure  that  they  were 
not  talking  nonsense,  instead  of  relying  wholly  upon  books. 

The  mole's  fortress  is  one  of  the  things  about  which  a 
great  many  learned  people  have  made  foolish  statements, 
merely  because  they  have  never  taken  pains  to  examine  one. 
About  a  hundred  years  ago  a  French  gentleman  wrote  an 
interesting  book  about  the  mole,  in  which  he  gave  on  the 
whole  an  accurate  account  of  the  animal.  Here  and  there, 
however,  he  added  little  touches — for  which  there  was  not 
the  least  need — to  the  picture,  to  make  it  still  more  interest- 
ing and  wonderful,  and  this  embellished  and  decorative 
narrative  has  been  handed  down  from  one  writer  to  another, 
receiving  other  picturesque  touches  by  the  way,  during  a 
whole  century,  without  a  single  one  of  these  learned  people 
seeming  to  suspect  that  it  was  anything  more  than  "  a 
round,  unvarnished  tale." 

If,  therefore,  you  turn  to  an  account  of  the  mole's  fortress 
as  given  in  almost  any  popular  treatise  on  natural  history, 
you  are  pretty  sure  to  find  it  stated  that  the  animal,  after  a 
careful  study  of  the  surrounding  neighbourhood,  selects  with 

34 


AN   UNDERGROUND  FORTRESS 

rare  wisdom  some  sheltered  spot  that  is  difficult  to  approach, 
a  place,  for  instance,  which  is  protected  by  tree  roots  or  the 
foundation  of  a  wall.  You  will  learn  that  the  dwelling  is 
constructed  with  great  skill  and  cunning  on  a  most  ingenious 
and  complicated  plan,  which  is  described  in  great  detail,  and 
you  are  led  to  suppose  that  the  plan  never  varies.  You 
wonder  how  the  mole  ever  manages  to  remember  it  all,  and 
how  he  contrives  to  find  his  way  out  of  such  an  intricate 
labyrinth  of  passages,  for  you  are  quite  sure  that  you  never 
could !  Of  course  this  ingenious  description  is  "  too  clever 
by  half,"  and  when  I  was  a  boy  it  sadly  strained  my  con- 
fidence in  the  accuracy  of  an  author  who  was  my  greatest 
hero,  for  I  always  failed  to  find  a  mole-hill  anything  like  the 
beautiful  picture  in  his  book.1  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  moles  in  my  part  of  the  country  were  very  ignorant,  and 
that  if  they  didn't  make  fortresses  like  the  picture,  they 
certainly  ought  to.  It  was  the  picture  that  was  at  fault, 
however,  and  not  the  moles ;  for  though  their  nests  have  a 
certain  resemblance  to  one  another,  no  two  are  exactly  alike, 
and  while  some  are  very  complicated,  others  are  just  as 
simple.  Mr.  Lionel  E.  Adams  recently  devoted  much  time 
during  a  period  of  four  years  to  the  study  of  the  mole,  and 
amongst  three  hundred  fortresses  examined  by  him,  not  one 
corresponded  with  the  famous  picture  in  the  natural  history 
books ! 

The  fortress  is  usually  situated  in  an  open  field,  and  only 
occasionally  under  a  tree  or  hedge.  Here  and  there,  how- 
ever, probably  as  the  result  of  good  fortune  rather  than 
good  judgment,  a  mole  hits  upon  a  situation  of  extraordinary 
safety,  as  in  one  instance  when  a  fortress  was  constructed 
within  the  wall  formed  by  a  hollow  tree  trunk.  What  the 
animal  likes  is  abundance  of  food  and  water,  and  he  does 

1  J.  L. 
35 


HOW   IT   IS   MADE 

not  appear  to  be  greatly  influenced  in  his  choice  of  quarters 
by  anything  else.  Sometimes  his  runs  are  made  in  soft, 
loose  soil,  at  others  in  sand  so  hard  that  a  spade  can  scarcely 
be  made  to  penetrate  it,  heavy  stones  weighing  as  much  as  a 
quarter  of  a  pound  being  turned  out,  all  of  which  goes  to 
show  that  he  is  a  very  expert  digger.  Having  decided  where 
he  will  make  his  home,  he  first  digs  a  globular  hole  a  few 
inches  below  the  surface  of  the  ground,  and  as  he  digs  he 
pushes  the  earth  on  to  the  surface  of  the  ground,  by  way  of 
a  tunnel  which  runs  upwards  from  the  nest  chamber.  Mr. 
Adams  says :  "  When  this  superincumbent  earth  has  reached 
an  inconvenient  height  another  tunnel  is  made,  sometimes 
from  another  part  of  the  nest  cavity,  but  more  often  side- 
ways from  the  first  upward  tunnel.  All  this  takes  time,  and 
the  mole  meanwhile  makes  fresh  runs  from  the  fortress,  the 
seat  of  its  labour,  in  various  directions  in  search  of  food. 
Much  of  the  earth  displaced  in  making  these  fresh  runs 
falls  into  the  nest  cavity,  and  has  to  be  disposed  of  in  the 
same  way  as  before.  Now  the  tunnel  (or  tunnels)  leading 
upwards  from  the  nest  cavity  becomes  longer  and  longer, 
winding  round  under  the  surface  of  the  growing  fortress. 
The  tunnels  in  the  fortress  are  for  two  distinct  purposes: 

(a)  Tunnels  to  eject  earth  from  the  nest  cavity  and  bolt  run. 
These  are  generally  in  the  shape  of  a  cockscrew  ascending 
from  the  nest,  and   often  diverging  into  blind  terminals. 

(b)  Tunnels  not  connected  directly  with  the  nest  cavity,  but 
traversing  the  fortress  from  runs  outside  it.     Through  these 
tunnels  the  mole  has  brought  the  earth  to  heap  over  the 
nest,  and  they  seldom  occur  except  in  boggy  land,  where  the 
nest  is  of  necessity  near  the  surface  of  the  ground,  or  even 
in  the  centre  of  the  piled-up  mound. 

"The  nest  cavity  is  roughly  spherical,  about  the  size  of 
a  large  cottage  loaf,  and  quite  smooth  from  constant  friction 

36 


THE   BOLT   RUN 

and  use.  The  nest,  which  completely  fills  the  nest  cavity,  is 
a  ball  of  grass  or  leaves,  or  a  mixture  of  both.  I  have  found 
a  nest  made  entirely  of  dead  beech  leaves,  others  entirely  of 
dead  oak  leaves,  and  when  it  is  remembered  that  this 
material  must  all  be  brought  in  by  the  mouth  the  amount  of 
labour  required  can  be  appreciated.  When  the  nest  is  taken 
out  bodily,  it  has  to  be  unwound  (if  made  of  grass)  to  find 
the  centre.  There  is  never  a  hole  apparent,  and  not  only  is 
the  nest  always  found  closed  when  the  young  are  within,  but 
in  all  cases,  even  when  old  and  long  deserted.  When  dry 
grass  is  not  obtainable  fresh  green  grass  is  used,  which  soon 
withers  and  gets  dry  with  the  heat  of  the  mole's  body. 
When  a  nest  containing  young  is  found  it  is  invariably 
infested  with  fleas  and  mites. 

"  Nearly  every  fortress  has  a  bolt  run,  by  which  the  mole 
can  escape  when  surprised  in  the  nest.  This  run  leads  down- 
wards from  the  bottom  of  the  nest,  and  then  turns  upward 
and  out  of  the  fortress  by  a  tunnel  of  its  own,  and  is  very 
rarely  connected  with  any  of  the  other  numerous  exits  of 
the  fortress.  The  only  fortresses  that  I  have  seen  without 
the  bolt  run  have  been  on  marshy  land,  where  such  a  tunnel 
would  have  led  to  water." 

Sometimes  there  is  a  tunnel  which  sinks  almost  straight 
down  into  the  ground  under  the  nest  for  several  feet ,  some 
people  believe  that  it  is  intended  for  a  well  which  the  mole 
digs  in  order  to  have  a  supply  of  drinking  water  on  the 
premises  at  all  times,  while  others  think  it  is  a  larder  in 
which  a  supply  of  paralysed  worms  is  kept  at  hand;  but 
there  appears  to  be  very  little  reason  to  suppose  that  it  is 
anything  more  than  a  badly  planned  bolt  run  which  the 
mole  abandoned  on  finding  out  that  he  had  made  a  mistake 
in  his  reckoning. 

A  mole  never  uses  the  same  nest  for  more  than  one  season, 
c  37 


THE  FOX'S   HOME 

but  he  frequently  returns  to  the  same  fortress  for  several 
years,  making  a  new  nest  on  the  top,  or  by  the  side,  of  the 
old  one,  bringing  in  fresh  grass  and  leaves  from  outside. 
The  young,  usually  three  or  four  in  number,  are  born  in  the 
spring  or  early  summer,  and  the  nest  which  the  female  mole 
makes  to  serve  as  a  nursery  for  her  little  ones  is  usually 
quite  simply  planned  and  seldom  has  a  bolt  run.  Her 
tunnels,  on  the  other  hand,  often  wind  about  hither  and 
thither  in  a  curious  fashion,  while  those  made  by  the  male 
are  driven,  as  a  rule,  straight  ahead ,  the  reason  for  the 
female"^  preference  for  a  tortuous  course  is  unknown  to 
naturalists — and  perhaps  to  the  moles  also. 

The  Fox  (Canis  vulpes)  passes  a  considerable  portion  of  his 
life  in  an  underground  den  or  "  earth,"  where  he  is  usually 
free  from  the  persecution  of  his  enemies  and  can  devour  his 
prey  in  comfort.  He  shows  a  marked  preference  for  the  out- 
skirts of  a  thicket  or  a  stony  hillside.  Sometimes — perhaps 
even  in  the  majority  of  cases — his  dwelling  is  made  entirely 
by  his  own  efforts,  but  he  is  by  no  means  averse  from  avoid- 
ing the  labour  of  digging  his  own  den  by  taking  possession 
of  the  burrow  of  some  other  animal  and  adapting  it  to  his 
particular  requirements.  He  very  often  makes  use  of  rabbit 
burrows ;  the  den  of  a  badger,  too,  offers  advantages  which 
induce  him  to  practise  grossly  unscrupulous  acts  in  order  to 
drive  out  its  rightful  owner. 

Reynard  has  earned  the  reputation  of  being  the  most 
cunning  and  cautious  of  animals,  so  that  it  is  scarcely  sur- 
prising to  find  that  he  is  in  the  habit  of  providing  himself 

with  a  dwelling  which  has  several  outlets,  while  to  make 

f~~' 
assurance  doubly  wire  he  has  nearly  always  more  than  one 

such  den  at  his  disposal.  In  the  case  of  our  English  fox, 
the  earth  varies  more  or  less  in  plan  according  to  its  origin. 
Should  it  happen  to  have  belonged  at  one  time  to  a  badger, 

38 


THE   BADGER'S   DEN 

it  will  often  be  found  to  be  not  only  extensive,  but  somewhat 
elaborate  also,  as  we  shall  see  presently;  while  a  natural 
cavity  amongst  the  rocks,  of  which  Reynard  occasionally 
avails  himself,  may  of  course  be  of  almost  any  size  or  shape. 
But  when  he  has  to  do  his  own  digging  he  contents  himself 
with  a  home  which,  though  fairly  spacious,  has  but  a  single 
chamber,  in  which  the  burrow  terminates.  The  Arctic  Fox 
(Canis  lagopiLs),  on  the  other  hand,  excavates  a  far  more 
complex  dwelling,  several  distinct  tunnels  opening  into  a 
large  common  chamber  and  providing  the  means  of  escape 
in  various  directions  in  case  of  danger.  The  tunnels  are 
said  to  be  occasionally  connected  by  cross  passages.  The 
living-room  is  situated  at  a  considerable  depth,  and  thus 
affords  ample  protection  from  the  severity  of  the  climate  ; 
but  it  is  not  the  only  retreat  with  which  the  animals  provide 
themselves,  for  an  inner  den,  which  is  approached  from 
the  first  apartment  by  a  single  tunnel,  serves  the  purpose 
of  a  nursery  for  the  young.  Usually  a  number  of  foxes 
make  their  homes  close  together,  forming  a  little  colony  of 
twenty  or  thirty  families.  Their  food  in  summer  consists 
mainly  of  birds  and  their  eggs— members  of  the  auk  family 
being  their  chief  victims.  When  the  birds  have  migrated, 
small  rodents  probably  take  their  place  in  the  Arctic  foxes' 
bill  of  fare,  and  Sir  G.  Nares  found  that  these  animals 
stored  up  vast  numbers  of  dead  lemmings  in  crannies  of  the 
rocks  as  a  provision  for  their  needs  during  the  winter. 

The  Badger,  or  "  brock  "  (Meles  taxus\  is  one  of  the  most 
notable  of  animal  excavators.  Its  favourite  haunts  are 
thickly  wooded  quarries  and  hillsides,  where  it  digs  for  itself 
a  large  and  roomy  den.  The  main  tcWhel  often  branches 
towards  its  inner  extremity,  and  frequently  the  den  has 
several  outlets — in  some  cases  as  many  as  six  or  eight.  The 
burrow  is  very  spacious,  so  that  there  is  ample  room  not 

39 


A   RETIRING   DISPOSITION 

only  for  the  animal  and  its  young  family,  but  for  a  thick 
bed  of  dry  fern  for  them  to  lie  on.  Here  the  day  is  spent 
in  sleep,  and  at  nightfall  the  animals  emerge  in  quest  of 
food,  which  they  sometimes  seek  in  company  with  others 
of  their  kind. 

When  a  burrow  has  several  openings,  as  a  rule  only  one, 
or  perhaps  two,  is  used  for  passing  in  and  out ;  the  others 
are  "emergency  exits,"  by  means  of  which  the  inhabitants 
can  escape  in  case  of  danger.  They  also  serve  to  ventilate 
the  dwelling-room,  for  this  much-abused  creature  is  far  more 
sanitary  in  its  habits  than  most  animals  which  live  in  burrows, 
and  keeps  its  home  scrupulously  clean.  Occasionally  the  den  is 
found  in  a  quite  open  spot  on  some  stony  hillside  ;  but  in  any 
case  one  that  is  remote,  quiet,  and  solitary,  for  the  badger 
loves  an  uneventful  life,  and  is  above  all  extremely  indepen- 
dent. This  animal  is  very  powerful  in  build,  and  has  strong 
forepaws  with  stout  claws  and  webbed  toes,  which  are 
admirably  adapted  for  digging.  It  burrows  with  the  greatest 
ease ;  with  extraordinary  rapidity — in  a  few  minutes  indeed 
— a  badger  thirty  inches  in  length  can  completely  bury  itself 
in  the  ground.  As  the  burrow  grows  deeper  and  the  accu- 
mulation of  loose  earth  begins  to  embarrass  the  animal  in 
its  movements,  the  hind  limbs  also  come  into  play  and  fling 
the  soil  backwards  with  vigorous  strokes.  After  a  while, 
however,  owing  to  the  depth  of  the  hole,  the  animal  has  to 
adopt  another  method  of  getting  rid  of  all  the  material  he 
has  dug  out .  to  keep  the  passage  clear  he  finds  it  necessary 
to  work  backwards  towards  the  entrance,  sweeping  up  the 
rubbish  as  he  goes — a  simple  matter,  for  a  badger  can  walk, 
and  even  trot,  backwards  almost  as  well  as  forwards. 

The  badger's  is  the  most  extensive  of  all  underground 
dwellings,  and  perhaps  the  one  which  shows,  in  some  in- 
stances, the  most  elaborate  provision  for  the  animal's  safety. 

40 


THE   HAMSTER'S   DWELLING 

The  passages  are  often  twenty  or  thirty  feet  long,  their 
openings  above  ground  are  a  great  distance  apart,  and  the 
den  is  made  at  a  depth  of  at  least  four  or  five  feet  from  the 
surface.  Often  the  chamber  is  situated  much  deeper,  as  when 
it  happens  to  be  dug  out  of  the  side  of  a  hill,  and  in  that  case 
the  animal  usually  makes  ventilating  holes  leading  directly 
upwards  to  the  open  air.  Badgers  are  probably  less  uncom- 
mon in  England  than  they  are  generally  supposed  to  be,  but 
owing  to  their  retiring  nature  and  nocturnal  habits  they  are 
seldom  seen  except  by  those  who  come  under  the  spell  of 
woods  by  night.  There  were  recently,  and  probably  there 
are  still,  a  few  of  these  animals  that  made  their  home  in 
Epping  Forest,  and  not  very  long  ago  I  saw  two  fine  speci- 
mens in  a  wood  in  Sutherlandshire.1  At  one  time  badgers 
were  undoubtedly  very  widely  distributed  in  these  islands,  as 
we  may  judge  both  from  the  frequency  with  which  their  re- 
mains are  met  with  in  caves  and  elsewhere,  and  from  the 
various  places,  such  as  Brockley  and  Brockenhurst,  whose 
names  are  derived  from  this  animal  •,  while  in  many  parts  of  the 
Continent,  especially  in  Germany,  they  are  still  very  common. 

There  is  an  animal  called  the  Hamster  (Cricetus  f rumen- 
tarius)  which  frequents  cornfields  in  the  temperate  parts  of 
Europe,  Asia,  and  America.  It  is  a  rodent — a  relative,  that 
is  to  say,  of  the  rats  and  mice ;  but  it  is  larger  than  they, 
being  about  ten  inches  in  length  exclusive  of  the  tail,  which 
seldom,  however,  measures  more  than  two  inches.  Its 
general  appearance  is  rather  pleasing  and  scarcely  suggests 
its  true  nature,  which  is  far  from  amiable,  for  it  is  a  sulky, 
ill-tempered  creature. 

This  animal  is  also  a  burrower,  and  makes  under  the 
ground  a  spacious  living-room  and  at  least  one  other 
chamber,  which  is  used  as  a  granary,  Brehm,  a  celebrated 

i  J.  L. 


A   TELL-TALE  LANDMARK 

German  naturalist,  tells  us  that  its  burrow  is  formed  with 
some  skill.  Its  dwelling-room  is  usually  from  three  to  six 
feet  from  the  surface  of  the  ground  and  is  approached  by  a 
perpendicular  tunnel,  while  a  second  tunnel,  or  creeping 
hole,  affords  an  easier  means  of  exit  by  being  sunk  in  a 
sloping  direction.  Other  passages,  deep  down,  connect  the 
living  or  sleeping  apartment  with  the  store-room.  The 
burrows  vary  in  character  according  to  the  age  of  the  owner ; 
a  young  animal  makes  its  dwelling  nearer  the  surface  and  of 
smaller  dimensions  than  an  older  one.  Furthermore,  the 
female  hamster  constructs  a  more  spacious  dwelling  than 
the  male ;  but  the  latter,  at  all  events  when  old  and  ex- 
perienced, excavates  the  chambers  at  a  greater  depth  in  the 
earth. 

A  hamster's  burrow  is  easily  recognized  by  the  heap  of 
earth  in  front  of  the  creeping  hole  being  strewn  over  with 
grain.  The  entrance  tunnel  is  always  perpendicular  for  the 
greater  part  of  its  course,  but  before  reaching  the  sleeping 
chamber  it  turns  aside  and  becomes  either  sloping  or 
horizontal.  The  creeping  hole,  on  the  other  hand,  is  invari- 
ably more  or  less  curved  throughout  its  whole  length.  The 
openings  of  the  two  tunnels  are  from  a  yard  and  a  half  to 
four  yards  apart. 

One  can  readily  see  whether  a  burrow  is  inhabited  or  not. 
If  moss,  fungi,  or  grass  be  found  sprouting  inside,  or  if  the 
sides  are  beginning  to  moulder  or  crumble,  it  is  certainly 
deserted,  for  such  a  state  of  affairs  is,  of  course,  impossible 
in  a  burrow  which  is  occupied. 

When  a  dwelling  has  been  inhabited  for  a  long  time  the 
walls  become  quite  smooth  and  polished  from  the  constant 
rubbing  of  the  animal's  fur.  The  chambers  are  not  of  equal 
size,  the  living-room  being  the  smaller  of  the  two.  This 
apartment  is  liberally  furnished  with  a  soft  bed  of  very  fine 

42 


WELL-PILLED  GRANARIES 

straw,  and  has  three  tunnels  converging  into  it,  those  of 
entrance  and  exit,  and  a  third  leading  to  the  store-room. 
The  latter  chamber  is  round  or  oval  in  shape,  and  towards 
the  end  of  autumn  is  filled  with  corn.  Young  hamsters 
only  make  one  granary,  but  the  older  animals  have  from 
three  to  five,  and  store  up  more  than  a  peck  of  grain  in  each, 
packing  it  very  tightly,  and  in  some  cases  even  filling  the 
passages  as  well.  Often,  however,  the  entrance  to  the 
granary  is  carefully  blocked  up  with  earth.  Formerly  it  was 
believed  that  the  hamster  sorted  out  different  kinds  of 
grain  and  stored  them  separately ;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
gathers  in  his  harvest  just  as  he  finds  it,  and  when  the 
various  grains  are  discovered  in  separate  stores  it  is  not  due 
to  any  special  love  of  order  on  the  animal's  part,  but  merely 
to  the  circumstance  that  each  kind — linseed,  beans,  and  so 
forth — is  gathered  as  it  ripens,  and  at  different  times  of  the 
year. 

The  burrow  of  the  female  is  not  quite  the  same  as  the  one 
we  have  described ;  as  in  the  other  case,  there  is  a  single 
creeping  hole,  but  the  entrances  are  numerous — usually  from 
two  to  eight — and  are  often  connected  with  one  another. 
These  holes  enable  the  young  hamsters  to  enter  their  home 
quickly  in  case  of  need ;  while  they  are  still  very  young, 
however,  one  doorway  serves  for  them  all.  The  mother 
hamster  seldom  makes  any  store-rooms ;  she  is  kept  far  too 
busy  in  caring  for  her  family  to  have  time  for  anything  else 
so  long  as  the  children  remain  in  the  parental  home. 

Hamsters  sleep  through  the  winter,  and  wake  up  again 
about  February  or  March  when  the  ground  begins  to  soften. 
They  do  not  open  up  their  burrows  immediately,  however, 
but  go  on  living  indoors  for  a  while,  obtaining  food  from  the 
plentiful  supply  in  their  granaries.  The  females  are  the 
first  to  venture  abroad  in  search  of  young  shoots  of  corn  or 

43 


POCKET-GOPHERS 

grain  that  has  recently  been  sown,  which  they  carry  to  their 
burrows  in  their  capacious  cheek-pouches.  The  males  stay 
at  home  for  a  month  or  five  weeks  longer,  by  which  time 
fresh  food  is  more  plentiful. 

The  young  are  born  quite  destitute  of  fur,  but  with  well 
developed  teeth,  such  as  you  might  expect  in  an  animal 
which  afterwards  becomes  so  pugnacious,  not  to  say  vicious. 
When  born,  eight  of  the  youngsters  weigh  little  more 
than  an  ounce;  but  they  grow  very  rapidly,  and  by  the 
end  of  the  eighth  or  ninth  day,  when  they  first  open  their 
eyes,  they  are  about  twelve  times  their  former  weight.  As 
soon  as  they  can  see  they  begin  to  make  a  tour  round  the 
nest,  as  if  to  familiarize  themselves  with  its  architecture,  for 
after  a  fortnight  01  so  they  begin  to  dig  on  their  own 
account,  and  very  soon  the  mother,  who  has  hitherto  behaved 
towards  her  children  in  the  most  irreproachable  manner  and 
displayed  strong  maternal  instincts  even  towards  youngsters 
not  her  own,  drives  them  from  the  burrow  and  compels 
them  henceforward  to  take  care  of  themselves,  which,  indeed, 
they  prove  themselves  perfectly  well  able  to  do. 

Belonging  to  the  same  order  as  the  hamster,  i.e.  the 
rodents,  but  to  a  different  family,  there  is  a  remarkable 
group  of  rat-like  animals  known  as  the  Pocket-gophers, 
which  inhabit  North  and  Central  America,  being  most 
abundant  on  the  extensive  plains  of  the  Mississippi  region. 
As  you  would  suspect  from  their  strange  name,  they  are 
creatures  of  great  distinction,  and  some  account  of  their 
peculiar  structure  and  habits  may  be  interesting.  We  will 
confine  our  attention  to  the  common  pocket-gopher  (Geomys 
bursarius),  the  best-known  member  of  the  group,  a  little, 
brown-and-grey,  white-footed  animal,  about  seven  or  eight 
inches  long  (not  counting  the  rather  short,  thick  tail),  with 
a  coat  of  soft  fur  rather  like  that  of  a  mole.  It  has  very 

44 


A  RARE   DISTINCTION 

small  eyes  and  ears,  and  its  neck  is  hardly  worth  mention- 
ing ;  but  it  has  remarkably  strong  feet,  the  fore  paws  being 
armed  with  long,  curved  claws.  Its  great  claim  to  distinc- 
tion, however,  consists  in  the  possession  of  a  pair  of  large 
fur-lined  pouches  which  open  outside  the  cheeks,  and  are 
put,  as  we  shall  see  presently,  to  a  peculiar  use. 

The  pocket-gopher  spends  practically  the  whole  of  its  life 
underground,  where  it  makes  long  tunnels  about  a  foot 
below  the  surface  for  the  purpose  of  reaching  the  roots  of 
plants,  which  form  the  chief  part  of  its  food.  At  the  foot 
of  some  large  tree  it  sinks  a  deep,  winding  passage,  at  the 
end  of  which,  four  or  five  feet  from  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  it  makes  a  large  living-room.  The  chamber  is 
usually  furnished  with  a  bed  of  soft  grass,  with  the  addition, 
when  it  is  used  as  a  nursery,  of  a  quantity  of  fur  which  the 
mother  takes  from  her  own  coat,  just  as  a  rabbit  does.  At 
one  side  of  the  living-room  there  is  usually  the  opening  of 
a  second  passage  which  leads  to  another  chamber,  in  which 
the  animal  stores  quantities  of  roots,  nuts,  and  in  cultivated 
districts  pieces  of  potato. 

Dr.  Merriam,  who  observed  the  animals  very  closely,  states 
that  in  digging  their  tunnels  they  use  their  strong  upper 
teeth,  or  incisors,  as  a  pick  to  loosen  the  earth.  "At  the 
same  time  the  fore  feet  are  kept  in  active  operation,  both  in 
digging  and  in  pressing  the  earth  back  under  the  body,  and 
the  hind  feet  are  also  used  in  moving  it  still  further  back- 
wards. When  a  sufficient  quantity  has  accumulated  behind 
the  animal,  he  immediately  turns  in  the  burrow,  and  by 
bringing  the  wrists  together  under  the  chin  with  the  palm 
of  the  hands  held  vertically,  forces  himself  along  by  the 
hind  feet,  pushing  the  earth  out  in  front.  When  an  open- 
ing in  the  tunnel  is  reached,  the  earth  is  discharged  through 
it,  forming  a  little  hillock.""  The  curious  cheek-pouches,  or 

45 


FILLING   THE   POCKETS 

pockets,  reach  back  as  far  as  the  shoulder,  and  are  used  only 
for  carrying  food — not  for  carting  dirt  out  of  the  burrow,  as 
many  people  believe.  It  is  curious  to  observe  that  the 
pocket-gopher,  like  the  badger,  can  run  backwards  almost 
as  readily  as  forwards ;  being  both  burrowing  animals,  the 
peculiarity  has  probably  been  acquired  on  account  of  its 
obvious  convenience  in  passing  to  and  fro  along  narrow 
tunnels.  Referring  to  a  captive  pocket-gopher,  Dr.  Merriam 
says :  "  This  method  of  progression  was  particularly  notice- 
able when  the  animal  was  in  his  own  quarters,  where  he 
could  follow  a  runway  or  an  accustomed  route.  When 
carrying  food  to  one  of  his  storehouses  he  rarely  turned 
round,  but  usually  ran  backwards  to  the  place  of  deposit, 
returning  for  more,  and  repeating  the  operation  again  and 
again,  the  to-and-fro  movement  suggesting  a  shuttle  on  its 
track.*"  The  animal's  manner  of  eating  and  filling  its 
pockets  was  peculiar  and  interesting,  and  showed  an  ability 
to  use  the  huge  fore  feet  and  claws  in  a  way  previously  un- 
suspected. "After  satisfying  the  immediate  demands  of 
hunger,  it  was  his  practice  to  fill  one  or  both  cheek-pouches. 
His  motions  were  so  swift  that  it  was  exceedingly  difficult 
to  follow  them  with  sufficient  exactness  to  see  just  how  the 
operation  was  performed.  If  a  potato  was  given  him,  or  a 
piece  too  large  to  go  into  the  pouch,  he  invariably  grasped 
it  between  the  fore  paws,  and  proceeded  to  pry  off  a  small 
piece  with  the  large  lower  incisors.  He  would  then  raise 
himself  slightly  on  his  hind  legs  and  hold  the  fragment 
between  his  fore  paws  while  eating,  for  he  usually  ate  a 
certain  quantity  before  putting  any  into  the  pouches.  As 
a  rule  one  pouch  is  filled  at  a  time,  though  not  always, 
and  the  hand  of  the  same  side  was  used  to  push  the  food  in. 
The  usual  course  is  as  follows :  A  piece  of  potato,  root,  or 
other  food  is  seized  between  the  incisor  teeth,  and  immediately 

46 


POCKET-GOPHERS  IN  THEIR  HOME 


These  peculiar  creatures  spend  their  lives  underground,  like  the  mole.   The  ani 
pt  the  illustration  is  represented  thrusting  a  mass  of  earth  out  of  its  burrow. 

interior  of  the  '/living-room "is  shown  ;  the  animal  on  the  left  is  stretching  the  OF. B  w  ~  ^^  Willl 

one  paw  while  it  thrusts  in  a  fragment  of  potato  with  the  other.  The  young  pocket-gopher  on  the  ri^ht 
is  eating  in  a  characteristic  attitude,  the  food  being  held  between  the  paws.  Just  behind  it,  the  opening 
of  the  tunnel  which  connects  the  living-room  with  the  animals'  store-room  may  be  distinguished 


imal  in  the  upper  division 
In  the  lower  division  the 
opening  of  a  pocket  with 


AN   INTERESTING  SCENE 

transferred  to  the  fore  paws.  The  piece  is  then  rapidly 
passed  across  the  face  with  a  sort  of  wiping  motion,  which 
forces  it  into  the  open  mouth  of  the  pouch.  Sometimes  a 
single  rapid  stroke  with  one  hand  is  sufficient;  at  other 
times  both  hands  are  used,  particularly  if  the  piece  is  large. 
In  such  cases  the  long  claws  of  one  hand  are  used  to  draw 
down  the  lower  side  of  the  opening,  while  the  food  is  poked 
in  with  the  other.  The  most  remarkable  thing  connected 
with  the  use  of  the  pouches  is  the  way  they  are  emptied. 
The  fore  feet  are  brought  back  simultaneously  along  the 
sides  of  the  head  until  they  reach  a  point  opposite  the 
hinder  end  of  the  pouches ;  they  are  then  pressed  firmly 
against  the  head  and  carried  rapidly  forward.  In  this  way 
the  contents  of  the  pouches  are  promptly  deposited  in 
front  of  the  animal.  Sometimes  several  strokes  are  neces- 
sary. I  have  never  seen  them  emptied  in  any  other  way." 
The  scene,  suggested  by  Dr.  Merriam's  interesting  descrip- 
tion, of  this  curious  little  animal  busily  engaged  in  convey- 
ing supplies  to  his  store-room  would  be  an  extremely  enter- 
taining one  to  watch  if  we  could  but  see  what  is  taking 
place  a  few  feet  underground.  We  can  imagine  him  hurry- 
ing to  and  fro,  pausing  in  the  living-room  to  fill  his  pockets, 
tasting  each  piece  of  potato  and  trimming  it  down  to  a 
convenient  size  before  tucking  it  away  into  the  pouch, 
stretching  wide  the  opening  with  one  hand  while  he  pushes 
in  an  extra  large  fragment  with  the  other,  and  when  at  last 
his  pockets  are  well  filled,  hurrying  along  the  corridor  back- 
wards to  save  the  trouble  of  turning  round.  Then,  on 
reaching  his  storehouse,  we  picture  him  sitting  on  his 
haunches  and,  by  a  good  hard  sweep  with  both  hands, 
squeezing  all  the  little  pieces  of  potato  out  of  his  pockets 
on  to  the  floor,  where  they  lie  in  a  heap  while  the  busy 
animal  hurries  away  for  another  load. 

47 


SLINKING  THROUGH  LIFE 

I  do  not  know  how  soon  young  Geomys  becomes  the 
possessor  of  full-sized  pockets,  and  whether  he  always  knows 
what  he  must  and  must  not  put  into  them,  or  has  to  be  in- 
structed by  his  mother  as  to  their  proper  use.  Argument 
by  analogy  in  natural  history  is  apt  to  lead  us  astray,  so  we 
must  leave  these  interesting  points  an  open  question. 

Most  mammals  display  not  a  little  sagacity  in  choosing 
for  their  dens  the  most  favourable  aspect  in  order  to  escape 
rain,  wind,  or  excessive  heat,  as  the  case  may  be.  In  this 
respect  the  Pariah  Dogs  of  Egypt  are  remarkable.  They 
live  a  perfectly  independent  life  amongst  the  mounds  of 
rubbish  in  the  neighbourhood  of  towns  and  villages,  sleeping 
most  of  the  day  and  prowling  about  after  nightfall.  Each 
dog  makes  his  own  particular  lair,  or  rather  lairs,  for  in  most 
cases  there  are  two,  one  facing  east  and  the  other  west.  If 
the  mounds  run  north  and  south,  so  that  both  holes  are 
exposed  to  keen  north  winds,  the  dog  will  even  dig  himself  a 
third  shelter  with  a  southern  aspect,  but  he  never  uses  this 
unless  driven  from  the  others  by  cold. 

Each  morning  until  about  ten  o'clock  the  dogs  may  be 
found  in  their  easterly  lairs  enjoying  the  warmth  of  the 
early  sunshine ;  but  as  soon  as  they  find  the  day  growing 
uncomfortably  hot  they  slink  away  to  a  shady  spot,  moving 
round  one  after  another  to  their  dens  on  the  western  side, 
there  to  continue  their  sleep.  In  the  afternoon,  when  the 
westering  sun  once  more  beats  down  upon  them,  they  return 
again  to  the  first  den,  where  they  remain  until  dusk. 

Not  a  few  of  the  burrowing  mammals  make  their  dwell- 
ings more  comfortable  by  the  addition  of  a  snug  lining  of 
various  soft  materials.  We  have  already  met  with  instances 
of  this  habit  in  the  badger,  the  hamster,  and  the  mole,  and 
we  find  yet  another  in  the  case  of  the  common  Fennec 
(Canis  zerda),  the  smallest  of  the  dog  tribe — a  strange- 

48 


"  DOG-TOWN  " 

looking    animal    with   immense   ears,   which    lives    in    the 
deserts  of  North  Africa. 

Like  the  fox,  the  fennec  makes  a  burrow ;  this  is  usually 
situated  in  the  neighbourhood  of  one  of  those  patches  of 
low-growing,  tough  plants  of  which  the  vegetation  of  the 
desert  consists,  for  in  such  places  the  sand  is  more  coherent, 
and  the  animals1  tunnels  and  chambers  are  therefore  less 
likely  to  fall  in.  The  passages  are  generally  quite  near  to 
the  surface ;  the  den,  but  little  deeper,  is  lined  with  hair, 
feathers,  and  shreds  of  vegetable  substance,  and  is  always 
kept  remarkably  clean.  The  fennec  burrows  with  great 
rapidity,  its  fore  feet  working  away  so  quickly  that  it  is  by 
no  means  easy  to  follow  their  movements.  No  doubt  this 
extraordinary  skill  in  excavating  often  saves  the  animal's 
life,  for  when  pursued  it  appears  to  sink  into  the  earth,  dis- 
appearing in  an  incredibly  short  time. 

During  the  day  the  fennec  remains  in  its  burrow  sleeping 
with  its  head  buried  under  the  thick  bushy  tail.  But  its 
great  ears  remain  exposed,  and  the  slightest  sound  is  enough 
to  arouse  its  attention ;  when  thus  disturbed  it  whimpers  like 
a  little  child  to  show  its  displeasure.  At  nightfall  the  animal 
leaves  its  snug  burrow  and  sets  out  for  the  drinking  places. 

The  Prairie-dog  (Cynomys\  or  Prairie-marmot  as  it  is 
more  properly  called  (it  is  not  really  a  dog  at  all,  but  a 
kind  of  squirrel),  lives  on  the  prairies,  those  great  grassy 
plains  of  North  America,  in  numerous  companies  or  colonies. 
The  animals  make  little  mounds  of  earth,  and  you  always 
find  a  great  many  of  these  in  one  locality,  which  is  known 
amongst  the  people  of  the  country  as  a  "  dog-town. "  Let 
us  see  what  sort  of  place  a  dog-town  is. 

To  have  any  real  idea  how  extensive  it  may  be,  you  must 
have  travelled  for  days  together  through  country  which  is 
dotted  over  with  mounds,  every  one  of  which  is  the  home  of 

49 


WINTER  SLEEP 

two  or  more  of  these  peaceful  little  animals.  The  hillocks 
are  generally  about  six  yards  apart,  and  each  one  consists 
of  as  much  earth  as  would  fill  a  very  large  wheelbarrow, 
thrown  up  by  the  Cynomys  when  he  digs  out  his  sub- 
terranean home.  The  dwelling  has  sometimes  one  and 
sometimes  two  entrances,  and  there  are  well-worn  paths 
between  the  different  habitations,  so  you  can  tell  at  a  glance 
that  the  animals  are  very  friendly  and  sociable  with  one 
another.  Tn  selecting  a  spot  on  which  to  establish  a  colony, 
they  choose  one  which  is  covered  with  short,  coarse  grass, 
such  as  is  found  especially  on  the  high  tablelands,  because 
it  is  on  this  grass  and  upon  various  roots  that  the  prairie- 
marmots  feed. 

On  the  tablelands  ot  New  Mexico,  where  for  miles  you 
will  not  find  a  drop  of  water  unless  you  dig  down  into  the 
earth  for  a  hundred  feet  or  so,  and  where  at  certain  seasons 
there  is  no  rain  for  several  months,  there  are  very  large 
colonies  of  prairie-marmots;  hence  it  is  quite  clear  that 
these  animals  are  able  to  live  without  drinking,  and  that 
they  can  obtain  enough  moisture  for  their  needs  from  a 
heavy  fall  of  dew. 

In  the  autumn  the  grass  dries  up  and  the  ground  soon 
becomes  frozen  hard,  so  that  digging  is  out  of  the  question. 
How  is  the  Cynomys  to  obtain  food  ?  He  has  laid  up  no 
store,  as  some  animals  do,  and  apparently  he  must  starve. 
Not  at  all !  He  just  goes  to  sleep  and  remains  asleep  all 
through  the  winter.  About  the  end  of  October  he  begins 
to  grow  drowsy,  so  he  creeps  into  his  burrow,  blocks  up  the 
openings  in  order  to  keep  out  the  cold  and  make  all  snug, 
and  is  seen  no  more  until  the  following  spring.  The  Indians 
say  that  he  sometimes  opens  up  his  house  again  before  the 
end  of  the  cold  weather,  and  that  when  he  does  so  it  is  a 
sure  sign  that  warmer  days  are  near  at  hand. 


THE  STICKLEBACK'S  NEST 

This  fish's  nest  is  loosely  woven  of  bits  of  grass  and  fragments  of  water-weed.  When 
the  eggs^have  been  deposited,  the  male  fish  keeps  a  strict  watch  over  them,  fiercely  attackine 
and  driving  away  any  fish  that  ventures  to  intrude  within  the  limits  of  his  domain.  Even 
his  mate  cannot  be  trusted  within  the  sacred  area. 


f-T 


ANIMAL   GOSSIP 

A  large  dog-town  presents  a  curious  sight  to  anybody 
who  approaches  very  cautiously  so  that  the  animals  do  not 
observe  him.  As  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  it  rests  upon  the 
same  gay,  animated,  happy  scene.  Everywhere  you  may 
see  the  little  animals,  sitting  up  like  squirrels,  on  the  top  of 
their  mounds,  waving  their  tails  from  side  to  side  and  yelping 
to  each  other  cheerfully,  until  they  produce  quite  a  concert 
of  sound. 

But  as  you  draw  nearer,  if  you  listen  carefully  you  will  hear 
a  different  note  from  the  old  and  more  experienced  animals, 
and  that  is  the  signal  for  the  whole  company  to  disappear 
in  a  moment  into  the  burrows.  Here  and  there,  however, 
you  may  still  perceive  a  sentinel  peeping  out  and  "  barking  " 
to  warn  his  comrades  that  a  man  is  approaching. 

If  you  hide  and  wait  patiently  for  some  time,  the  sentinels 
will  again  mount  up  to  their  posts  of  observation  on  the 
hillocks,  and  announce  in  the  same  way  that  the  danger  is 
past,  whereupon  the  animals  come  out  of  their  burrows 
one  after  another  and  begin  to  play  about  as  before.  One 
respectable  old  fellow  goes  to  visit  a  neighbour  who  is 
sitting  on  the  top  of  his  mound  and  seems,  by  the  way  in 
which  he  waves  his  tail  about,  to  be  inviting  his  friend  to  sit 
down  beside  him.  All  the  while  they  keep  uttering  the 
peculiar  sound  which  for  want  of  a  better  word  we  may 
term  a  bark  or  yelp;  you  would  think  they  were  ex- 
changing opinions  on  the  latest  news.  After  an  animated 
conversation  of  this  kind  they  will  perhaps  go  into  the  house 
for  a  moment,  and  on  coming  out  again  proceed  both 
together  to  call  upon  another  neighbour,  who  is  apparently 
very  glad  to  see  them  and  joins  them  in  their  walk.  On 
the  way  they  meet  other  friends  and  stay  with  them 
awhile,  whereupon  the  party  breaks  up  and  they  all  go 
home. 


SUMMER  AND  WINTER  QUARTERS 

You  may  see  them  behaving  after  this  fashion  for  hours 
together,  and  you  feel  quite  sorry  that  you  are  not  able  to 
speak  their  language  and  go  amongst  them  to  hear  what 
they  are  talking  about. 

Although  prairie-marmots  are  so  timid  that  the  slightest 
movement  of  a  hunter  will,  as  we  have  seen,  cause  a  whole 
colony  of  them  to  disappear  underground,  leaving  no  signs 
of  their  existence  except  the  mounds  in  front  of  their 
burrows  and  a  chorus  of  little  yelps  which  seem  to  come 
from  the  depths  of  the  earth,  yet  they  are  not  in  the  least 
terrified  by  buffaloes,  but  will  play  about  amongst  their 
hoofs  quite  fearlessly. 

There  are  some  mammals,  though  not  many,  which  have 
two  dwellings  every  year,  one  for  summer  and  the  other  for 
winter.  Amongst  them  are  the  Marmots  (Arctomys\  whose 
homes  have  been  described  very  accurately  by  Tschudi  in  a 
well-known  book  about  the  Alps. 

Marmots,  he  tells  us,  choose  for  their  abode  in  summer 
grassy  oases  surrounded  by  rocks  and  chasms ;  they  prefer 
spots  where  they  can  enjoy  plenty  of  sunshine,  avoiding 
damp  and  shady  places.  They  dig  holes  which  are  in  many 
cases  three  or  four  feet  deep,  and  galleries  a  fathom  or  two 
long,  but  so  narrow  that  they  will  only  just  admit  a  closed 
fist.  These  galleries  lead  into  the  actual  dwelling,  which  in 
shape  is  something  like  a  big  basin.  The  entrance  to  the 
burrow  is  occasionally  found  piercing  the  turf  quite  in  the 
open,  but  more  often  it  is  hidden  amongst  rocks  or  under 
stones,  where  it  is  by  no  means  easy  to  discover.  The 
galleries  run  up  and  down  in  various  directions;  some  are 
single,  while  others  divide  into  branches,  and  their  walls  are 
beaten  and  pressed  so  hard  by  the  animal  passing  to  and  fro 
that  you  would  think  he  must  have  squeezed  his  way  through 
the  ground  without  troubling  to  dig  out  any  of  the  earth. 

52 


LAYING   IN  SUPPLIES 

It  occasionally  happens  that  marmots  have  only  one  home 
all  the  year  round  in  that  case  it  is  made  on  the  plan  of 
the  winter  quarters,  and  is  more  spacious  than  a  dwelling 
which  is  intended  for  occupation  in  the  summer-time  only. 
As  a  rule,  however,  they  like  to  spend  the  warm  months  on 
grassy  slopes  high  up  amongst  the  mountains,  about  ten 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea — partly,  perhaps,  because  at 
such  a  height  they  are  comparatively  safe  from  meeting  with 
dangerous  neighbours.  But  the  coming  of  cold  weather 
drives  them  down  to  the  pasture  lands,  which  have  by  that 
time  been  deserted  by  the  shepherds,  and  there  they  begin 
to  dig  out  winter  burrows  which  are  spacious  enough  in  some 
cases  to  accommodate  a  family  of  fifteen  individuals. 

The  middle  of  October  is  the  time  when  they  shut  them- 
selves in  for  the  winter,  and  to  prepare  for  this  event  they 
bring  in  a  quantity  of  dry  grass,  which  forms  a  soft  carpet 
for  the  burrow  and  is  used,  together  with  earth  and  stones, 
for  blocking  up  the  entrances.  This  shutting  up  of  the 
home  is  effected  at  a  distance  of  one  or  two  feet  from  the 
outer  opening,  where,  if  the  animals  are  at  home  for 
the  winter,  you  find  a  solidly  built  door.  Just  before  that 
point  the  tunnel  divides,  forming  a  branch  road;  it  is 
probable  that  this  is  made  after  the  door  has  been  con- 
structed, for  the  purpose  of  keeping  the  burrow  free  from 
refuse  and  waste  materials.  A  similar  branch  passage  which 
is  occasionally  found  in  the  summer  burrow  must,  however, 
have  some  other  use :  perhaps  it  is  meant  as  a  means  of 
escape  when  the  animal  is  pursued,  or  it  may  have  been 
intended  originally  for  the  main  road,  and  abandoned  on 
account  of  a  stone  or  some  other  obstacle. 

It  is  seldom  that  the  main  road  is  less  than  ten  feet  long, 
and  occasionally  it  extends  three  times  that  distance  from 
the  entrance.    As  it  approaches  the  end  it  rises  a  little  before 
D  53 


OUR  OLD  FAMILIAR  FRIEND 

opening  into  the  living-room,  which  measures  from  three  to  six 
feet  across  and  is  filled  with  soft,  dry  grass ;  this  is  replenished 
in  the  autumn  of  each  year,  for  the  marmot  is  a  prudent  little 
fellow,  and  begins  to  put  by  a  store  of  provisions  as  early  as 
August,  cutting  down  grass  and  herbage  with  his  sharp  teeth 
and  then,  when  it  is  dry,  carrying  it  home.  There  are  still 
many  simple  folk  who  believe,  as  Pliny  did,  that  one  of  the 
animals  lies  on  his  back  and  allows  himself  to  be  loaded  with 
hay  by  the  others,  who  then  drag  him  home  by  the  tail,  like 
a  living  sledge.  In  this  way  they  account  for  the  worn-out 
appearance  of  the  fur  on  his  back.  But  his  shabby  garment 
is  more  probably,  if  less  picturesquely,  explained  by  the 
narrow  entrance  through  which  he  has  to  pass  in  order  to  get 
into  his  burrow. 

We  can  hardly  leave  the  digging  mammals  without  just 
mentioning  our  friend  the  Rabbit,  whose  official  title  is 
Oryctolagus  cuniculus.  A  rabbit  warren  consists,  as  most 
people  are  aware,  of  an  intricate  system  of  underground 
tunnels  which  communicate  with  one  another  and  run  in  all 
directions.  Besides  the  main  entrance,  the  individual  burrow 
is  commonly  provided  with  a  back  door  or  bolt  hole,  the 
advantage  of  which  is  obvious.  The  rabbit's  nursery,  how- 
ever, has  but  a  single  opening,  and  the  mother  lines  her  nest 
with  fur  which  she  plucks  with  her  teeth  from  her  own 
chest  and  body. 


CHAPTER  III 
EXCAVATORS  AND  MINERS 

OTHER  ANIMALS 

Bird  excavators — Sand  martins — Delicate  labourers — Prodigious  industry 
— The  kingfisher — A  nest  of  bones — Tortuous  burrows — An  un- 
mistakable dwelling — A  dying  race — Larks  and  their  nests — Ostriches 
and  their  relations — Kiwis — **  Sniffing"  for  worms — A  remarkable  egg 
— Tortoises — Strange  use  for  a  tail— Depositing  the  eggs — Interesting 
behaviour — "Robber-crabs" — A  Munchausen-like  story — Crab  and 
cocoa-nut — The  underground  bed — Ghoulish  habits — Fiddler-crabs — 
Laughable  antics — Swift  land-crabs — Warning  to  trespassers — A 
mile  of  crabs — Floods  caused  by  cray-fish — Tarantulas — A  well- 
planned  den — The  spider's  tower — Spider-eating  sheep— A  brooding 
spider. 

WE  will  now  turn  our  attention  to  the  birds,  amongst 
which  excavators  are  no  less  numerous  than  in  the 
great  division  of  the  animal  kingdom  which  we 
have  already  considered. 

Some  birds  make  tunnels  of  such  great  length  that  they 
may  very  well  be  counted  amongst  the  miners.  The  most 
notable  example  of  these  in  our  own  country  is  the  Sand 
Martin  (Cotile  riparia\  which  comes  to  us  early  in  the  spring 
from  Africa,  and  lives  in  companies  or  colonies  wherever  it 
finds  a  steep  or  overhanging  bank  of  sand,  as  in  ballast-pits, 
beside  rivers,  and  so  forth,  wherein  to  tunnel. 

It  is  not  easy  to  understand  how  so  small  and  delicate  a 
bird  manages  in  a  short  time  to  sink  a  shaft  of  the  relatively 
enormous  dimensions  of  some  of  those  in  which  the  sand 

55 


PRODIGIOUS   INDUSTRY 

martins  make  their  nests.  It  sometimes  happens  that  a 
pair  of  these  birds  succeed  in  a  few  days  in  piercing  a  hole 
a  yard  or  more  in  depth  and  about  three  inches  wide. 
Whilst  they  are  thus  occupied  their  activity  is  prodigious. 
You  may  see  them  laboriously  gathering  up  in  their  claws 
the  loose  earth  which  results  from  the  tunnelling  and  casting 
it  out  of  the  hole  with  great  energy.  After  beginning  one 
hole,  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  them  to  abandon  it  and  to 
commence  a  fresh  one ;  indeed,  they  sometimes  act  thus  when 
the  first  dwelling  has  actually  been  completed ;  for  what 
reason  it  is  difficult  to  say.  The  birds  are  so  completely 
engrossed  in  their  labours  that  one  might  imagine,  no  longer 
seeing  them  flying  about,  that  they  had  left  the  country 
again  ;  but  you  have  only  to  strike  the  ground  over  their 
nesting-place  with  your  foot,  and  in  a  moment  you  see  them 
dart  out  of  their  tunnels.  When  the  bird  is  sitting,  how- 
ever, she  often  will  not  leave  the  nest  even  though  a  hand  or 
a  stick  be  thrust  into  the  hole. 

The  nest-holes  vary  considerably  in  depth,  some  being 
comparatively  shallow,  while  others  may,  as  we  have  already 
stated,  extend  more  than  a  yard  from  the  opening,  which  is 
usually  narrower  than  the  part  beyond.  Each  ends  in 
a  spacious  chamber  containing  a  slight  nest  composed  of 
a  little  soft  straw,  with  some  feathers,  and  perhaps  a  few 
hairs.  Generally  from  twenty  to  a  hundred  or  more  pairs 
nest  in  close  proximity  to  one  another;  it  sometimes 
happens,  however,  that  the  birds  take  up  their  abode  in  holes 
in  a  rock  or  in  an  old  wall,  and  in  such  cases  their  dwellings 
are  of  necessity  not  only  further  apart,  but  much  more 
shallow  than  those  bored  in  sand. 

There  is  a  little  South  American  bird  called  Geositta 
cunicularia  which  is  nearly  allied  to  the  oven-bird,  but  has 
habits  very  different  from  those  of  its  relative,  for  instead  of 

56 


A  NEST  OF  BONES 

building  a  stout  mud  house  in  an  exposed  situation,  it 
excavates  in  a  bank  a  deep  burrow  with  a  round  chamber  at 
the  end,  and  in  the  chamber  it  builds  a  beautiful  nest.  The 
tunnel,  from  two  to  six  feet  long,  has  an  opening  which  is 
only  just  large  enough  to  allow  the  bird  to  pass  in  and  out, 
and  from  this  slopes  gradually  upwards,  so  that  there  is  no 
danger  of  the  heaviest  rains  penetrating  to  the  nesting 
chamber.  Owing  to  the  direction  of  the  burrow  the  chamber 
at  its  further  extremity  is  in  complete  darkness,  and  there 
the  bird  makes  a  domed  nest  of  soft  grass,  with  an  opening 
at  the  side. 

The  Kingfisher  (Alcedo  ispida),  the  most  brilliantly  clad  of 
all  our  native  birds,  is  also  one  of  the  miners.  Peculiar  and 
striking  in  appearance,  its  habits  are  not  less  curious.  In 
the  early  spring,  when  choosing  a  nesting-place,  it  invariably 
selects  for  the  purpose  some  steep,  dry  bank,  destitute  of  all 
vegetation,  up  which  neither  rat  nor  weasel,  nor  any  other 
carnivorous  animal,  can  make  its  way.  There,  a  foot  or  two 
below  the  edge  of  the  bank,  the  kingfisher  bores  a  round 
hole  not  much  more  than  two  inches  in  diameter.  Sloping 
upwards  a  little,  the  tunnel  penetrates  into  the  earth  for 
more  than  half  a  yard  and  ends  in  a  smooth,  round  cavity 
a  little  higher  than  the  width  of  the  burrow  and  about 
twice  as  broad.  The  dry  earth  which  forms  the  floor  of  the 
little  chamber  is  covered  with  small  fish-bones,  and  on  this 
strange  and  odorous  nest  are  placed  from  five  to  seven 
relatively  large,  almost  round  eggs,  with  shells  of  lustrous 
whiteness.  When  recently  laid  the  eggs  appear  to  have 
a  pinkish  hue  owing  to  the  presence  of  the  yolk  within  the 
thin  translucent  shell,  but  after  being  blown  the  latter  has 
the  brilliance  and  purity  of  fine  white  enamel.  They  are 
about  the  same  size  as  a  quail's  eggs,  and  as  Bechstein,  the 
well-known  German  naturalist,  has  observed,  it  is  difficult  to 

57 


AN   UNMISTAKABLE  DWELLING 

understand  how  the  kingfisher  manages,  with  its  short,  stiff 
feathers,  to  brood  on  them  all  at  once. 

The  excavation  of  its  nesting  hole  occupies  the  kingfisher 
during  two  or  three  weeks,  for  these  birds  are  by  no  means 
such  rapid  workers  as  the  sand  martins.  When  a  stone 
happens  to  lie  in  the  course  of  the  tunnel  it  is  removed  if  it 
be  not  too  large;  otherwise  the  burrow  is  diverted  to  one 
side  of  it ;  and  from  this  cause  the  tunnels  made  by  king- 
fishers are  often  very  tortuous.  If  there  be  too  many 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  progress,  however,  the  bird  abandons 
the  tunnel  and  makes  a  fresh  attempt  elsewhere.  In  their 
method  of  nesting  the  kingfisher  and  the  woodpeckers  pre- 
sent certain  similarities,  but  with  this  difference,  that  while 
the  former  excavates  its  home  in  the  earth,  the  latter  attacks 
dead  or  diseased  wood.  So  long  as  they  are  not  molested 
a  pair  of  kingfishers  may  occupy  the  same  nest  year  after 
year;  but  if  the  entrance  to  their  dwelling  be  enlarged  no 
eggs  are  ever  deposited  there  afterwards. 

Bechstein  states  that  it  is  quite  easy  to  recognize  a  nest 
which  has  already  been  inhabited  by  the  presence  of  heads 
and  wings  of  dragon-flies  amongst  the  fish-bones.  In  a  new 
nest  the  fish-bones  are  fewer,  and  the  remains  of  dragon-flies 
are  not  found  until  it  has  been  occupied  by  a  young  brood. 
A  kingfisher's  nest  can,  of  course,  be  distinguished  at  a 
single  glance  from  a  rat-hole  or  the  burrow  of  any  other 
animal.  Nor  is  it  more  difficult  to  tell  when  it  is  in- 
habited, for  then  the  fishy  odour  is  obtrusive  and  unmis- 
takable. 

The  pertinacity  with  which  a  kingfisher  remains  on  her 
eggs  or  with  the  newly  hatched  young  within  the  nest  is 
remarkable.  Beat  on  the  earth  as  hard  and  as  long  as  you 
will,  it  is  impossible  to  drive  the  bird  from  her  hole ;  even 
the  noise  and  violence  attending  the  enlargement  of  the 


LARKS  AND  THEIR  NESTS 

tunnel  will  not  cause  her  to  leave  the  nest,  where  she 
remains  quite  still  until  she  is  on  the  point  of  being 
captured. 

The  Weka-rails,  or  Wood-hens  (Ocydromus\Qi  New  Zealand 
are  known  sometimes  to  make  burrows,  which  they  use  both 
as  a  retreat  and  for  nesting  purposes.  They  dig  these  holes 
with  their  beaks  only,  without  the  help  of  their  claws. 
Though  they  have  ample  wings,  these  birds  have  entirely 
lost  the  power  of  flight,  and  as  they  are  much  sought  after 
by  the  Maoris  for  food  they  are  doomed  to  extinction  at  no 
very  distant  date. 

The  birds  we  have  mentioned  hitherto  in  this  chapter  all 
make  burrows  or  tunnels;  but  there  are  many  others,  amongst 
them  numerous  game  birds,  which  are  content  with  a  mere 
hollow  in  the  ground. 

The  Skylark  (Alauda  arvensis)  nests  in  meadows  and 
cornfields.  The  nest,  a  very  simple  one  of  bents  lined  with 
finer  grasses  and  rootlets,  is  always  made  on  the  ground  and 
very  often  in  a  slight  hollow,  which  both  birds  are  said  to 
co-operate  in  scratching  out. 

The  European  Short-toed  Lark  (Calandrella  brachydactyla), 
whose  sweet  song  is  to  be  heard  in  Malta  during  the  summer 
months,  and  which  is  frequently  offered  for  sale  in  the  Paris 
bird-shops,  nests  in  the  same  manner  as  the  skylark.  The 
nest,  however,  is  often  more  artfully  concealed  by  being 
placed  under  the  shelter  of  a  clod  of  earth  or  beside  a  small 
bush. 

Nests  which  are  built  on  the  ground  are  usually  coarsely 
constructed,  but  this  is  not  an  invariable  rule.  Thus  the 
common  Horned  Lark  (Otocoris  alpestris\  which  inhabits  the 
whole  of  the  northern  parts  of  Europe  and  often  winters  on 
our  eastern  coasts,  makes  a  rather  deep  nest  in  a  hollow  of 
the  ground,  and  lines  it  with  fine  grasses  and  husks  of  seeds, 

59 


KIWIS 

willow  down,  or  reindeer  hair,  all  well  shaken  out  and  care- 
fully disposed  to  form  a  soft  bed. 

Ostriches  and  other  similar  birds,  that  is  to  say,  Rheas, 
Cassowaries,  and  Emus,  lay  their  eggs  in  a  large  hollow 
excavated  in  the  sand.  In  the  warmer  districts  in  which 
these  birds  dwell  they  only  sit  during  the  night,  when  it  is 
necessary  to  protect  the  eggs  from  jackals ;  in  the  daytime 
they  cover  them  over  with  sand  and  abandon  them  to  the 
heat  of  the  sun.  Several  hens  lay  in  a  single  nest,  but  they 
take  no  part  in  the  duty  of  incubation,  which  is  left  entirely 
to  the  male  bird. 

That  wholly  remarkable  bird  the  Kiwi  may  fittingly  be 
mentioned  here,  partly  by  reason  of  its  supposed  relationship 
to  the  ostriches  and  its  manner  of  nesting,  but  also  because 
its  strangeness  in  many  respects  makes  it  a  creature  apart 
from  its  race,  and  one  which  may  appropriately  serve  to 
conclude  our  series  of  bird  excavators.  The  kiwis  (Apteryx) 
are  found  only  in  New  Zealand,  where  they  spend  the  day  in 
burrows  and  sally  forth  at  dusk  in  search  of  worms  and 
other  food.  As  their  name,  Apteryx^  suggests,  these  birds 
are  apparently  wingless ;  they  are  not  really  so,  however,  and 
though  the  wings  are  very  small  they  are  readily  felt  under 
the  long,  narrow,  soft  feathers.  The  kiwi  is  also  apparently 
tailless,  but  to  make  up  for  these  deficiencies  it  has  very 
stout  legs  and  feet  with  long  curved  claws,  and  a  remarkably 
elongated,  probe-like  bill,  the  nostrils  of  which  are  placed 
near  the  tip  instead  of  being  close  to  the  head  as  is  the  case 
in  most  birds,  an  arrangement  which  permits  it  to  "  sniff1' 
for  worms  down  their  burrows.  The  kiwi's  own  burrow 
is  a  short  tunnel  with  an  enlarged  space  at  the  end  lined 
with  dry  fern  on  which  is  deposited  an  enormous  egg,  which 
weighs  about  a  quarter  as  much  as  the  bird  itself,  and  is,  in 
proportion,  the  largest  egg  known.  As  in  the  other  more  or 

60 


STRANGE   USE  FOR  A  TAIL 

less  allied  species  mentioned  above,  the  male  undertakes  the 
duties  of  incubation. 

Most  Tortoises  dig  holes  in  the  ground  to  receive  their 
eggs,  which  they  afterwards  cover  up  with  earth.  They 
make  these  cavities  in  a  very  curious  way,  first  drilling  holes 
with  their  tails  and  afterwards  enlarging  them  with  their 
hind  feet.  This  strange  proceeding  was  observed  very  care- 
fully by  Brehm,  who  describes  how,  towards  the  close  of  a 
warm  day  of  early  summer,  after  a  long  period  of  dry 
weather,  five  European  Pond-tortoises  (Emys  orbicularis)  all 
laid  their  eggs  at  the  same  time.  They  had  chosen  their 
ground  by  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening — not  all  in  one  place, 
but  a  considerable  distance  apart.  After  deciding  on  a  suit- 
able spot  where  the  earth  was  bare,  each  of  them  at  once 
began  to  bore  a  hole  with  its  tail,  stiffening  it  by  contracting 
the  muscles  strongly,  and  placing  the  tip  firmly  against  the 
ground.  The  middle  part  of  the  tail  was  then  moved  round 
and  round  in  a  circle,  until  a  cone-shaped  hole  was  produced, 
wide  at  the  top  but  tapering  to  a  point  below,  and  almost 
as  deep  as  the  length  of  the  tail.  When  this  curious 
operation  was  completed,  the  animal  immediately  set  to  work 
to  enlarge  the  cavity  with  the  help  of  its  hind  limbs.  This 
it  did  by  scooping  out,  first  with  one  hind  foot  and  then  with 
the  other,  alternately,  'shovelfuls'  of  earth  which  were 
heaped  up  like  a  rampart  all  the  way  round  the  sides  of  the 
trench.  The  tortoise  used  its  feet  like  hands,  placing  the 
earth  carefully  in  a  circle  at  some  little  distance  from  the  edge 
of  the  pit,  and  the  work  was  continued  until  the  hole  had 
been  dug  as  deep  down  as  the  hind  limbs  would  reach. 

All  this  time  the  body  had  scarcely  moved  and  the  head 
was  kept  inside  the  shell.  The  pit  measured  about  five 
inches  across  and  was  shaped  more  or  less  like  an  egg,  being 
widernnside  than  at  the  top. 

61 


INTERESTING  BEHAVIOUR 

When  the  animal  found  that  it  could  remove  no  more 
earth,  that  is  to  say,  at  the  end  of  an  hour  or  more,  it 
seemed  to  be  satisfied  that  the  nest  was  ready,  and  without 
changing  its  position  it  proceeded  to  place  its  eggs  inside 
very  carefully  (just  as  you  would  put  hens'*  eggs  into  a 
basket),  using  for  the  purpose  first  one  hind  paw  and  then 
the  other.  The  eggs,  of  which  in  most  cases  there  were 
nine,  had  soft  shells  at  first,  but  they  soon  became  hard  when 
exposed  to  the  air. 

It  required  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  deposit  the 
eggs,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  the  animal  appeared  to 
rest,  remaining  quite  still,  with  the  foot  which  had  been 
used  to  put  the  last  egg  in  place  still  hanging  limply  in  the 
nest  and  the  tail  drooping  in  a  lifeless  manner.  After  an 
interval  of  about  half  an  hour  the  final  and,  to  all  appear- 
ance, the  most  arduous  part  of  the  work  was  begun — that  of 
filling  up  the  hole  and  levelling  the  ground.  The  earth  was 
placed  carefully  over  the  eggs,  a  handful  at  a  time,  the 
hind  limbs  being  used  alternately  as  before  for  the  purpose. 
As  the  hole  was  gradually  filled  up  the  animal  strove  to 
press  the  earth  down  with  the  outer  edge  of  her  foot. 
When  at  length  the  cavity  was  quite  full  she  took  another 
rest  for  half  an  hour,  after  which  she  began  beating  down 
the  mound  of  earth  and  stamping  the  soil  firm  and  flat  with 
the  under  side  of  her  hard  shell.  She  raised  the  hind  end  of 
the  body  and  then  hurriedly  let  it  drop  to  the  ground  again, 
turning  round  and  round  in  a  circle  meantime.  She  worked 
very  hard  and  very  quickly,  indeed  you  would  not  have 
thought  a  tortoise  could  move  so  briskly ;  at  the  same  time 
she  did  all  she  could  to  remove  any  traces  which  might  have 
led  to  the  discovery  of  her  nest,  and  in  this  she  was  so  suc- 
cessful that  if  the  spot  had  not  been  marked,  it  could  not 
have  been  detected  the  following  morning. 

62 


"ROBBER-CRABS" 

tortoise's  eggs  remain  underground  for  ten  or  twelve 
months. 

The  European  pond-tortoise  is  still  found  in  Southern 
and  Central  Europe,  but  it  disappeared  from  England  with 
the  beaver,  the  roe-deer,  and  the  pelican  long  ages  ago. 
As  a  "  pet,11  however,  it  is  by  no  means  uncommon,  and  it 
is  frequently  exhibited  for  sale  in  London  shops  and  else- 
where. 

If  that  highly  imaginative  person  Baron  Munchausen  had 
informed  his  friends  that  one  day  he  had  landed  upon  an 
island  where,  on  penetrating  into  a  forest  several  miles  from 
the  sea,  he  came  upon  some  immense  crabs  busily  engaged 
in  digging  holes  in  the  ground,  whilst  others  were  climb- 
ing trees  and  gathering  cocoa-nuts,  his  friends  would  prob- 
ably have  said,  "  Oh,  come  now,  Baron,  we  don't  mind  be- 
lieving that  little  story  about  the  whale,  but  this  is  too 
much ! "  Yet  there  are  such  crabs — millions  of  them  :  which 
is  probably  the  reason  why  Baron  Munchausen  did  not  tell 
the  story. 

There  are  several  species  of  land-crabs,  but  perhaps  the 
most  famous  of  them  all  is  the  great  Robber-crab  (Birgos 
latro\  which  is  found  on  islands  in  the  Indo-Pacific  seas — a 
creature  of  immense  strength,  which  climbs  palm  trees  and 
breaks  open  cocoa-nuts,  and  lives  in  a  den  which  it  digs  for 
itself  in  the  earth.  Darwin  gives  an  interesting  description 
of  these  extraordinary  animals,  which  is  well  worth  quoting 
at  length.  He  says:  "I  have  before  alluded  to  a  crab 
which  lives  on  cocoa-nuts :  it  is  very  common  on  all  parts  of 
the  dry  land,  and  grows  to  a  monstrous  size :  it  is  closely 
allied  or  identical  with  the  Birgos  latro.  The  front  pair  of 
legs  terminate  in  very  strong  and  heavy  pincers,  and  the 
last  pair  are  fitted  with  others  weaker  and  much  narrower. 
It  would  at  first  be  thought  quite  impossible  for  a  crab  to 

63 


CRAB  AND   COCOA-NUT 

open  a  strong  cocoa-nut  covered  with  the  husk,  but  Mr.  Liesk 
assures  me  that  he  has  repeatedly  seen  this  effected.  The  crab 
begins  by  tearing  the  husk,  fibre  by  fibre,  and  always  from 
that  end  under  which  the  three  eye-holes  are  situated ,  when 
this  is  completed,  the  crab  commences  hammering  with  its 
heavy  claws  on  one  of  the  eye-holes  till  an  opening  is  made. 
Then  turning  round  its  body,  by  the  aid  of  its  posterior  and 
narrow  pair  of  pincers,  it  extracts  the  white  albuminous 
substance.  I  think  this  is  as  curious  a  case  of  instinct  as 
ever  I  heard  of,  and  likewise  of  adaptation  in  structure 
between  two  objects  apparently  so  remote  from  each  other 
in  the  scheme  of  nature  as  a  crab  and  a  cocoa-nut  tree. 
The  Birgos  is  diurnal  in  its  habits,  but  every  night  it  is  said 
to  pay  a  visit  to  the  sea,  no  doubt  for  the  purpose  of 
moistening  its  branchiae  [gills].  The  young  are  likewise 
hatched,  and  live  for  some  time  on  the  coast.  These  crabs 
inhabit  deep  burrows,  which  they  hollow  out  beneath  the 
roots  of  trees,  and  there  they  accumulate  surprising  quanti- 
ties of  the  picked  fibres  of  the  cocoa-nut  husk,  on  which 
they  rest  as  on  a  bed.  The  Malays  sometimes  take  advan- 
tage of  this,  and  collect  the  fibrous  mass  to  use  as  a  junk.  .  . . 
To  show  the  wonderful  strength  of  the  front  pair  of  pincers, 
I  may  mention  that  Captain  Moresby  confined  one  in  a 
strong  tin  box  .  .  .  the  lid  being  secured  with  wire ;  but  the 
crab  turned  down  the  edges  and  escaped.  In  turning  down 
the  edges,  it  actually  punched  many  small  holes  quite 
through  the  tin ! "  In  the  Natural  History  Museum  at 
South  Kensington  there  is  a  photograph  of  a  palm  grove 
with  a  number  of  these  crabs,  one  of  which  is  in  the  act  of 
climbing  up — or  descending,  I  forget  which — a  tree. 

According  to  the  account  given  by  Mr.  Arthur  Adams  in 
Zoology  of  the  Voyage  of  the  Samarang^  these  somewhat 
terrible  creatures  are  not  always  satisfied  with  a  diet  of 

64 


ROBBER-CRABS 

These  powerful  land  crabs  inhabit  deep  burrows,  which  they  make  for  themselves 
beneath  the  roots  of  trees.     They  climb  trees  and  eat  cocoa-nuts,  which  they  break 
open  by  hammering  upon  one  end  of  the  shell  with  their  huge      pincers.       In  the 
burrows  they  accumulate  immense  quantities  of  cocoa-nut  fibre,   which  the  Malays 
sometimes  collect  to  use  as  junk. 


SWIFT  LAND-CRABS 

cocoa-nuts,  for  in  the  Meia-co-shimah  group  of  islands  he 
found  that  they  frequented  cemeteries  and  fed  on  the  bodies 
of  the  dead. 

It  is  really  quite  a  pleasant  relief  to  turn  from  a  story 
with  such  a  gruesome  ending  to  the  amusing  antics  of 
another  crab  which  is  largely  terrestrial  in  its  habits.  This 
crab  is  appropriately  named  Gelasimus,  which  means  "  laugh- 
able," and  a  queer  little  fellow  he  is.  The  male  has  one 
claw  of  immense  size,  the  other  being  quite  small.  The  big 
claw  is  gaily  coloured,  and  when  the  animal  runs  he  waves  it 
about  as  if  energetically  beckoning,  or  playing  some  very 
stirring  tune  on  a  violin ;  hence  he  is  often  known  as  a 
"  Calling-crab "  or  "  Fiddler-crab. "  The  calling-crabs  in- 
habit various  parts  of  the  world,  and  are  usually  found  in 
large  numbers  on  muddy  or  sandy  flats  left  dry  by  the  tide, 
where  they  may  be  seen  hurrying  over  the  sand  or  peering 
out  of  their  holes,  into  which  they  immediately  vanish  when 
alarmed.  The  burrows,  which  are  about  a  foot  in  depth, 
are  made  by  the  crab  persistently  digging  up  and  carrying 
away  little  masses  of  mud  or  sand.  When  thus  engaged  the 
appearance  of  the  animal  is  extremely  comic.  Scraping  up 
a  quantity  of  sand  into  a  little  heap,  he  grasps  it  with  three 
of  the  legs  of  one  side  and  hurries  away  with  it  to  some  dis- 
tance. Having  deposited  his  load,  he  raises  his  eyes  (he 
can  do  that  quite  effectively,  because  they  are  situated  at  the 
end  of  very  long,  slender  stalks),  peers  curiously  around,  and 
scuttles  back  to  the  burrow  for  another  load  of  sand.  The 
male  is  less  timorous  than  the  female — as  indeed  he  ought  to 
be,  with  such  a  mighty  claw — and  occasionally  makes  some 
show  of  guarding  his  retreat. 

The  Swift  land -crabs  (Ocypoda\  which  run  with  such 
speed  that  catching  them  is  quite  an  exciting  game,  bore 
deep  holes  in  the  sand  below  high- water  mark,  so  that  they 

65 


A  MILE  OF  CRABS 

spend  half  their  time  under  water,  and  the  other  half,  when 
the  tide  is  out,  wandering  about  the  beach  in  search  of  food. 
Though  crowds  of  them  frequent  the  same  locality  they 
never  venture  to  intrude  into  one  another's  burrows,  and 
should  one  attempt  to  do  so,  a  loud  scraping  noise  made  by 
the  rightful  owner  warns  him  as  plainly  as  possible  that 
"  trespassers  will  be  prosecuted."  Even  when  hard  pressed 
one  of  these  crabs  will  rely  on  his  agility  to  bring  him  safely 
to  his  own  home  rather  than  risk  the  peril  of  intruding  into 
the  dwelling  of  a  stranger. 

Before  taking  leave  of  the  crabs,  we  will  mention  one 
more  species.  Gecarcinus  ruricola,  a  native  of  Jamaica, 
usually  takes  up  quarters  two  or  three  miles  from  the 
sea,  where  it  spends  the  day  hidden  away  under  rocks, 
in  hollow  trees,  or  in  holes  and  burrows.  Like  other  land- 
crabs  it  is  able  to  run  with  extraordinary  swiftness,  and 
in  the  pairing  season  the  whole  colony  sets  out  en  masse 
for  the  sea.  Issuing  in  myriads  from  their  lurking-places, 
the  crabs  form  a  mighty  band,  which  sometimes,  accord- 
ing to  Mr.  Browne,  covers  an  area  more  than  a  mile  in 
length  and  forty  yards  wide.  Nothing  turns  them  from 
their  course.  With  the  males  leading  the  way,  they  make  a 
bee-line  for  the  sea,  passing  over  all  obstacles — not  only 
hills  and  hedges,  but  even  houses  and  cliffs — and  constantly 
risk  their  lives  rather  than  make  a  circuit.  In  the  late 
summer  they  change  their  coats,  for  which  purpose  they 
retire  to  their  burrows  and  carefully  close  up  all  the  apertures 
in  order  to  keep  out  any  possible  enemies  until  the  new  shell 
has  become  hard  enough  for  them  to  venture  in  the  open 
once  more. 

It  occasionally  happens  that  the  mining  propensities  of 
crustaceans  become  decidedly  troublesome,  for  it  is  stated 
that  "the  embankments  of  the  Mississippi  are  sometimes 

66 


A   WELL-PLANNED  DEN 

weakened  to  such  an  extent  by  the  burrowings  of  the  cray- 
fish as  to  give  way,  and  allow  the  river  to  inundate  the 
surrounding  country." 

The  famous  Tarantula  Spider  (Lycosa  tarentula\  the  bite 
of  which,  in  Italy,  is  so  greatly  dreaded  by  the  peasants, 
who  believe  that  it  is  followed  by  a  disease  called  "taran- 
tism,"  and  that  it  can  only  be  cured  by  a  certain  kind  of 
music,  is  an  expert  in  the  making  of  burrows.  When 
digging,  it  first  loosens  the  earth  with  its  mandibles,  and 
then,  after  scraping  it  together  into  a  small  heap,  makes  it 
into  a  neat  little  packet  by  means  of  silk  and  slime  from  its 
mouth,  and  flicks  the  pellet  away  to  some  distance.  In- 
habiting by  preference  dry,  barren,  open  ground,  which  is 
fully  exposed  to  the  warmth  of  the  sun,  it  sinks  in  the  earth 
a  cylindrical  shaft  more  than  a  foot  long  and  about  an  inch 
in  diameter,  in  which  it  lies  hidden  during  the  day,  coming 
out  at  nightfall  to  seek  for  prey,  for  it  is  one  of  the  wolf 
spiders  and  hunts  its  game  without  the  aid  of  snares. 

The  burrow  is  artfully  planned.  At  first  there  is  a  sheer 
descent  four  or  five  inches  in  depth,  but  at  that  distance 
below  the  surface  the  tube  turns  aside  before  dipping  straight 
down  again  to  its  termination.  It  is  at  the  angle  or  elbow 
of  the  tube  that  the  tarantula  watches  for  the  approach  of 
enemies  or  prey,  like  a  vigilant  sentinel,  never  for  a  moment 
off  its  guard.  "  It  is  there,'1  says  M.  Leon  Defour,  "that  at 
the  time  when  I  was  hunting  for  tarantulas  I  saw  its  eyes 
sparkling  like  diamonds,  shining  in  the  darkness  like  a  cat's. 
The  external  orifice  of  the  burrow  is  ordinarily  surmounted 
by  a  separately  constructed  tube,  a  true  piece  of  architec- 
ture, which  rises  about  an  inch  above  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  and  is  sometimes  as  much  as  two  inches  in  diameter, 
being  thus  larger  than  the  burrow  itself.  This  last  arrange- 
ment appears  to  be  the  result  of  careful  calculation  on  the 

6? 


SPIDER-EATING   SHEEP 

spider's  part,  for  it  enables  it  to  spread  out  its  legs  as  it 
must  do  before  pouncing  upon  its  prey.  The  tube  is  princi- 
pally composed  of  fragments  of  dry  wood  fastened  together 
with  clayey  earth,  and  so  artistically  disposed  one  above  the 
other  that  they  form  a  scaffolding  having  the  shape  of  a 
hollow  cylinder,  and  its  strength  is  greatly  added  to  by  a 
silk  lining  which  the  spider  warps  over  the  inner  surface  and 
continues  over  the  whole  of  the  inside  of  the  burrow."  '  The 
outwork,  or  tower,  is  not  found  in  all  the  nests,  but  when 
present  it  is  no  doubt  very  serviceable  in  preventing  loose 
sand  and  other  rubbish  from  being  blown  into  the  burrow. 
Besides  chips  of  wood,  the  spider  often  uses  pine-needles  and 
bits  of  lichen  for  building  its  rampart,  fastening  them  together 
with  silk.  In  winter  it  makes  a  cover  or  lid  of  the  same 
materials,  and  remains  snugly  indoors  until  the  cold  weather 
is  past. 

In  the  lower  part  of  the  illustration  opposite  page  30 
you  will  see  a  tarantula  represented  as  it  springs  from  its 
turret  to  pounce  upon  a  large  field  cricket.  According  to 
Baglivi,  the  peasants  sometimes  lure  tarantulas  from  their 
holes  by  blowing  into  a  haulm  of  oats  and  thus  imitating 
the  buzzing  of  an  insect.  Without  resorting  to  some  such 
strategy  it  is  a  difficult  matter  to  secure  these  spiders,  for  it 
is  not  easy  to  catch  them  by  digging  them  out  of  their 
burrows.  Nevertheless  they  are  not  immune  from  danger, 
in  spite  of  their  ingenuity,  for  M.  de  Walckenaer  states  that 
in  the  steppes  of  Asiatic  Russia  a  species  of  black  sheep 
unearths  tarantulas  and — eats  them  ! 

In  the  Natural  History  Museum  at  South  Kensington 
you  may  see  a  great  block  of  earth  containing  four  wonder- 
ful burrows  made  by  spiders  called  Santaremia  pocockii,  a 
South  American  species  common  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Pard  and  Santarem.  This  spider,  which  is  a  great  brown 

68 


A  BROODING  SPIDER 

fellow  with  a  body  as  large  as  that  of  a  small  mouse,  and 
stout,  hairy  legs,  digs  in  the  sand  a  wide  tube  about  a  foot 
deep.  The  tunnel  ends  in  an  enlarged  chamber,  where  the 
spider  deposits  about  seventy  spherical  eggs,  enclosing  them 
in  a  cocoon,  over  which  she  broods,  as  you  may  see  her  doing 
in  the  interesting  specimen  in  the  Museum.  The  burrow  is 
of  course  lined  with  silk,  which  is  continued  above  the  sur- 
face of  the  ground  in  the  form  of  a  funnel ;  the  latter  is 
strengthened  with  grass  or  leaves,  and  serves  to  keep  the 
nest  free  from  drifting  sand  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
tarantula's  turret. 


69 


CHAPTER  IV 
MAKERS   OF  BASKET-WORK 

Stability  of  birds'  nests— Variety  of  architecture— The  typical  nest- 
Goldfinch  and  chaffinch — A  beautiful  tissue— Outside  decorations — 
Crossbills— The  birds  at  work— Choice  of  material— More  solid 
structures— A  warm-blooded  race — The  perfect  incubator — A  nest 
made  of  lichens— Homes  over  the  water — Slender  foundations — 
Nature's  cement— A  beautiful  cradle— Homes  on  the  water— Con- 
cealing the  eggs — Floating  nests — A  damp  bed — Building  enthusiasts 
— "Invisible"  nests — Birds  of  prey — Aeries— The  lordly  eagle- 
Notice  of  tenancy — Piracy  on  the  high  trees — An  interesting  faggot 
— The  honey-buzzard's  screen — The  type  of  parental  devotion — 
Protection  and  rubbish — Apes  and  their  beds — A  lofty  platform — 
Family  parties— Paul  Du  Chaillu's  strange  story— A  leafy  canopy — 
The  orang-outang's  couch— Our  ignorance  concerning  gorillas. 

WHAT  we  may  call  the  constructive  instinct  is  more 
widely  spread  and  more  highly  developed  amongst 
the  birds  than  in  any  other  group  of  the  animal 
kingdom.  With  comparatively  few  exceptions  they  build 
nests  which  give  evidence  of  admirable  architectural  skill; 
and  if  we  bear  in  mind  that  a  bird  has  no  implements 
except  its  beak  and  claws,  we  cannot  but  wonder  at  the 
ingenuity  which  enables  it  to  make  a  dwelling  which, 
poised  as  it  very  often  is  on  the  slightest  of  supports  in  mid- 
air, and  exposed  to  the  wind  and  rain,  can  yet  withstand 
the  wear  and  tear  of  a  turbulent  family  of  youngsters 
who  would  very  quickly  wreck  or  capsize  it  if  it  were 
not  both  firmly  founded  and  strongly  built.  It  is  interest- 

70 


VARIETY  OF  ARCHITECTURE 

ing  to  note  that  the  bird  which  displays  so  much  energy, 
zeal,  skill,  and  foresight  where  the  welfare  of  its  family  is  con- 
cerned is  in  its  own  life  an  utter  Bohemian,  living  carelessly 
from  day  to  day  and  seldom  making  any  provision  for  the 
future.  Fortunate  it  is  for  him,  in  many  cases,  that  when 
the  cold  weather  comes  and  food  is  scarce,  he  can  fly  away  to 
a  kinder  and  more  congenial  climate,  there  to  remain  until 
the  return  of  summer. 

Birds  attach  a  great  deal  of  importance  to  the  stability  of 
their  nests.  Those  species  which  have  no  great  skill  in 
building,  such  as  the  redstart,  the  rock  dove,  and  the  nut- 
hatch, plant  them  firmly  on  the  ground,  in  a  hole  in  a  bank 
or  hollow  tree,  or  within  some  crevice  or  cranny  of  a  rock. 
The  more  expert  architects,  on  the  other  hand,  often  show 
great  daring  in  their  selection  of  a  site,  constructing  their 
nests  high  in  a  bush  or  in  some  tall  tree;  yet  taking  care,  for 
their  greater  security,  to  place  them  on  the  fork  of  a  branch, 
or  even  in  many  cases  building  around  two  or  three  stout  twigs, 
which  pass  through  the  walls  of  the  nest  and  prevent  it  from 
being  dislodged  by  the  strongest  wind.  Birds  which  build  in 
marshy  places  give  the  same  attention  to  the  security  of  their 
foundations,  and  anchor  their  nests  to  the  surrounding  reeds 
by  cables,  as  it  were,  of  flexible  rushes. 

The  walls  of  different  nests  vary  in  thickness  and  strength 
not  only  in  proportion  to  the  weight  of  the  brood  they  are 
destined  to  contain,  but  also  with  the  number,  position,  or 
firmness  of  the  points  of  support.  Thus  the  side  of  a  nest 
which  is  in  contact  with  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  a  wall,  or  a 
rock  is  commonly  very  thin  and  may  in  some  part  be  want- 
ing altogether;  while  the  side  which  projects  into  space 
without  any  direct  support  is  necessarily  made  much  thicker 
and  stronger. 

Most  birds  bind  together  more  firmly  the  materials  which 


GOLDFINCH  AND  CHAFFINCH 

form  the  framework  of  the  nest  with  scraps  of  moss,  wool, 
spider's  web,  mud,  and  even  by  means  of  their  own  saliva. 

The  walls  of  a  nest  are  usually  formed  of  three  layers,  of 
which  the  outermost  is  roughly  made  of  coarse  materials, 
and  the  middle  one  somewhat  finer  and  more  carefully  put 
together.  But  it  is  the  inner  layer,  forming  the  lining  of 
the  nest,  to  which  the  bird  usually  devotes  most  skill  and 
attention,  making  it  of  the  finest  grasses,  soft  moss,  hair, 
feathers,  thistle-down,  and  the  like,  and  choosing  those 
substances  which  are  best  adapted  to  form  a  soft  bed  and  to 
retain  the  warmth  which  is  imparted  to  the  eggs  during 
incubation. 

A  nest  of  the  common  shape  with  which  everybody  is 
more  or  less  familiar  may  be  somewhat  fancifully  compared 
to  a  basket  without  a  handle,  or  to  one  of  those  panniers  one 
so  often  sees  on  the  Continent,  slung  over  the  backs  of 
donkeys  or  mules.  Birds  interlace  and  weave  together  strips 
of  vegetable  matter  much  as  the  basket-makers  do,  forming  a 
hollow,  cup-shaped  structure.  The  general  method  is  similar 
in  nearly  all  cases,  though  different  species  employ  different 
materials,  the  nature  of  which  naturally  influences  to  some 
extent  the  operations  of  the  worker.  For  the  purpose  of 
description  we  have  adopted  a  classification  of  nests  which 
is  quite  arbitrary  and  artificial,  but  which  seems  convenient 
for  our  purpose. 

NESTS  MADE  OF  SOFT  MATERIALS 

A  great  number  of  our  song  birds  build  nests  which  come 
under  this  heading.  It  will  be  sufficient  if  we  give  a  few 
examples  of  those  which  are  best  known. 

Amongst  our  British  birds  the  Goldfinch  (Carduelis 
carduelis)  and  Chaffinch  (Fringitta  ccelebs)  make  nests 

72 


A   BEAUTIFUL  TISSUE 

which  are  unsurpassed  for  beauty  of  material  and  perfection 
of  delicate  workmanship.  Of  these  two  the  latter  is  to  be 
found  from  time  to  time  in  almost  any  bush  or  hedgerow, 
and  every  boy  is  familiar  with  it ;  but  owing  to  the  popu- 
larity of  the  goldfinch  as  a  cage  bird,  the  former  is  un- 
fortunately no  longer  as  common  as  it  used  to  be. 

In  general  shape  these  nests  resemble  a  hollow  ball  with 
the  top  sliced  away.  They  are  thick  -  walled,  soft,  and 
extremely  neat.  Owing  to  their  small  dimensions — neither 
of  them  measures  more  than  three  and  a  half  inches  across — 
the  birds  can  very  well  dispense  with  the  earth  and  stout 
bents  and  roots  used  by  thrushes  and  blackbirds ;  they  are 
satisfied  with  soft  mosses,  wool,  etc.,  which  they  bind 
together  with  perhaps  a  little  fine  grass  and  a  few  small 
rootlets. 

The  materials  are  interlaced  so  skilfully  that  they  form  a 
tissue  which  is  both  strong  and  elastic — as  soft  and  as  springy 
as  a  knitted  web;  yet  it  is  not  soft  enough,  it  seems,  for 
these  fastidious  little  birds.  The  goldfinch  adds  a  lining  of 
fir-needles,  feathers,  wool,  thistle-down,  willow-down,  etc., 
according  to  the  choice  afforded  by  the  locality  in  which  the 
nest  is  built,  and  then  a  few  hairs  to  keep  everything  neat 
and  trim,  for  otherwise  the  mass  of  light  down  would  have 
a  tendency  to  spring  up  and  become  displaced,  however  care- 
fully the  bird  arranged  it.  The  chaffinch  does  much  the 
same,  lining  the  nest  with  hair  and  feathers ;  yet  even  then 
she  has  not  finished  her  labours.  One  of  the  most  beautiful 
of  our  British  birds,  this  little  creature  is  equally  endowed 
with  self-respect  and  excellent  taste;  so  when  she  has 
finished  the  structural  part  of  her  nest  she  turns  her  atten- 
tion to  the  outside  decorations.  The  fragments  of  moss  are 
so  beautifully  arranged,  and  woven  together  with  such  regu- 
larity, that  the  surface  texture  resembles  the  fleece  of  a  lamb, 

73 


OUTSIDE  DECORATIONS 

the  general  colouring  being  a  yellowish  green.  On  this 
foundation  the  bird  applies  an  inlay,  so  to  speak,  of  pale- 
grey  lichens  and  bleached  scraps  of  moss,  secured  more  firmly 
by  means  of  spider's  web,  and  forming  a  sort  of  arabesque 
over  the  whole  surface.  The  result  is  a  truly  beautiful  speci- 
men of  craftsmanship.  One  nest  I  discovered  some  years 
ago  in  the  vicinity  of  a  farm-house  had  tiny  scraps  of 
bright-blue  paper  woven  into  the  wall ;  despite  the  meanness 
of  the  material  the  effect  was  peculiarly  brilliant.1  The 
goldfinch  pays  rather  less  attention  to  the  adornment  of  the 
outside  of  its  nest,  making  a  few  spiders'*  webs  and  fragments 
of  bleached  moss  suffice.  As  the  nest  is  often  placed  in  the 
fork  of  an  apple  or  other  fruit  tree,  the  branches  of  which 
are  not  uncommonly  covered  with  patches  of  lichen  and 
similar  vegetation,  it  harmonizes  well  with  its  surroundings, 
and  it  may  well  escape  notice  altogether  or  be  mistaken  by  the 
inexperienced  eye  for  a  knotty  outgrowth  from  the  tree  itself. 
Both  goldfinch  and  chaffinch  are  in  the  habit  of  building 
the  walls  of  their  nest  around  one  or  more  of  the  twigs  on 
which  it  is  supported,  thus  making  it  very  firm  and  secure. 

The  Crossbill  (Loxia  curvirostra),  that  roving  bird  which  is 
seen  in  various  parts  of  the  country  from  time  to  time,  from 
the  extreme  north  of  Scotland  on  the  one  hand  to  Bourne- 
mouth on  the  other,  frequents  those  districts  which  are  plenti- 
fully wooded  with  pine  and  fir  trees,  on  the  branches  of  which 
it  may  be  observed  hanging  in  all  sorts  of  attitudes  whilst  it 
extracts  seeds  from  the  cones  with  its  powerful  beak.  It 
builds  its  nest  in  these  same  trees,  often  at  a  great  distance 
from  the  ground,  and  always  in  the  shelter  formed  by  a 
cluster  of  small  branches.  The  structure  is  small  for  the 
size  of  the  bird,  and  is  usually  difficult  to  detect,  as  it  may 
readily  be  mistaken  for  an  enlargement  or  angle  of  the 

1  J.  L. 
74 


THE   BIRDS  AT  WORK 

branch  on  which  it  is  placed.  It  is  composed  of  slender  dead 
twigs  of  fir,  larch,  or  pine,  and  has  a  lining  of  moss,  lichens, 
pine  needles,  or  fine  flakes  of  bark,  together  with  wool  or 
feathers  and  hair. 

Brehm  states  that  he  once  had  an  opportunity  of 
observing  a  female  crossbill  engaged  in  building  her  nest. 
She  began  by  bringing  dry  twigs,  and  then  went  amongst 
the  branches  gathering  scraps  of  lichen,  of  which  she  bore  a 
whole  beakful  at  a  time  to  the  nest  and  arranged  them  in 
their  proper  place.  As  soon  as  the  framework  of  the  nest 
had  been  put  together,  the  bird  spent  some  time  in  shaping 
it,  pushing  it  with  her  breast  and  pressing  it  together,  turn- 
ing round  and  round  meanwhile.  She  took  all  her  materials 
from  a  neighbouring  tree,  and  so  industrious  was  she  that 
she  went  on  working  all  through  the  noontime,  and  only 
took  two  or  three  minutes  over  collecting,  carrying,  and 
arranging  each  load. 

From  the  moment  the  first  egg  is  laid  the  hen  bird 
never  leaves  the  nest,  where  her  partner  tends  her,  supplies 
all  her  wants,  and  sings  to  her  while  she  is  sitting. 

NESTS  COMPOSED  ENTIRELY  OF  GRASSES  AND  THE  LIKE 

The  number  of  birds  that  make  their  nests  of  vegetable 
substances  alone,  without  any  admixture  of  hair,  wool,  or 
spider's  web  either  as  ties  or  for  the  purpose  of  lining,  or 
without  the  addition  of  earth  and  feathers,  is  comparatively 
small.  The  Nuthatch  (Sitta  ccesia)  commonly  makes  such 
a  nest  of  dry  leaves,  small  twigs,  chips  of  bark  and  wood, 
but  these  are  so  loosely  heaped  together  in  the  hole  of 
a  tree  that  the  bird  can  scarcely  take  rank  as  a  craftsman 
amongst  those  which  appear  in  the  present  chapter.  The 
vast  majority  of  well-constructed,  cup-shaped  nests  owe 

75 


MORE  SOLID  STRUCTURES 

more  or  less  of  their  stability  to  the  use  of  animal  sub- 
stances, which  have  greater  binding  powers  than  grass, 
straw,  and  the  like.  The  Land-rail  or  Corn-crake  (Crex 
crex)  makes  a  nest  of  dry  herbage,  stalks,  and  grass,  on  the 
ground  amidst  growing  corn  or  clover,  or  in  a  meadow  ; 
but  here  again  the  structure  is  a  very  loose  affair.  A  better 
architect  and  a  more  skilful  builder  is  the  Grasshopper 
Warbler  (I^ocustella  ncevia\  that  shy  and  vigilant  little 
summer  visitor  of  ours,  whose  shrill  chirping  note  is  the 
origin  of  its  name.  This  bird  and  the  Pied  Wagtail 
(Motacilla  lugubris)  build  nests  of  coarse  dry  grass  with  finer 
pieces  within,  the  wagtail  using  also  dead  roots,  moss,  etc. 
Birds  generally  prefer  dry  herbage  and  vegetation  for  their 
nests,  for  it  is  not  only  finer  and  more  supple,  and  therefore 
easier  to  work  with,  than  green  leaves  and  stems,  but  also 
far  warmer  and  by  no  means  so  liable  to  decay. 

NESTS  MADE  OF  VEGETABLE  MATERIALS  AND  EARTH 

Among  the  song  birds  there  are  some  that  increase  the 
solidity  of  their  nests  by  the  addition  of  earth  to  the  soft 
vegetable  materials  of  which  they  are  otherwise  composed. 
The  nests  of  the  Blackbird  (Turdus  merula)  and  the  Thrush 
(Turdus  musicus),  well  known  to  everybody,  are  of  this  kind. 
Both  birds  excel  in  the  art  of  working  up  earth  or  mud  and 
spreading  it  so  that  it  forms  a  hard,  smooth  layer.  Mixing 
pieces  of  grass,  etc.,  with  the  mud  (just  as  a  bricklayer  mixes 
hair  with  his  mortar  to  make  it  "  bind "  better),  disposing 
these  in  a  more  or  less  circular  direction — yet  in  such  a  way 
that  the  pieces  cross  one  another — and  afterwards  drying  the 
composition  by  the  warmth  of  their  body  (which  is  about 
109°  F.,  or  10°  higher  than  our  own  bodily  temperature), 
they  succeed  in  constructing  a  cup  which  is  at  the  same  time 

76 


THE  PERFECT  INCUBATOR 

both  thin  and  strong.  This  cup  is  surrounded  by  a  thick 
coating  of  grass,  bents,  roots,  and  similar  materials. 

Consider  for  a  moment  what  an  excellent  arrangement  it 
all  is  for  incubating  the  eggs  and  keeping  the  young  birds 
warm  and  snug :  the  impervious  lining,  through  which 
neither  wind  nor  rain  can  penetrate;  the  stout,  closely 
woven  wrapper  which  keeps  out  the  cold;  could  anything 
be  better?  Nothing  is  wanting  to  complete  the  incubator 
except  a  radiator  of  some  kind,  and  a  lid  to  prevent  heat 
escaping  at  the  top.  Well,  the  parent  bird  provides 
these ;  its  own  warm  body  is  at  once  both  radiator  and  lid. 
When  sitting  on  the  nest,  the  wings  are  spread  a  little  so 
as  to  cover  the  whole  cavity,  and  thus  every  requirement  is 
satisfied. 

The  need  for  solidity  and  warmth  is  therefore  beautifully 
provided  for  in  these  nests ;  but  there  is  still  another  point 
to  notice  in  their  construction.  The  inner  surface  of  the 
cup  is  made  smooth  and  soft,  and  in  their  method  of 
accomplishing  this  the  two  birds  differ.  The  blackbird 
lines  the  whole  cavity  with  a  layer  ot  very  fine  grass,  cover- 
ing the  mud  wall  so  completely  that  it  is  entirely  hidden. 
The  thrush,  on  the  other  hand,  has  resort  to  a  process  of 
which  no  other  bird  possesses  the  secret.  Tiny  fragments 
of  dead  wood  are  covered  with  saliva,  and  this  curious  com- 
position is  spread  in  a  thin  layer  over  the  lining  of  mud  or 
cow-dung,  forming  a  smooth,  elastic  surface.  It  is  almost 
as  if  the  bird  laid  over  the  floor  of  its  little  chamber  a 
covering  of  cork  carpet. 

Similar  as  the  nests  of  these  two  birds  are  in  many 
respects,  they  are  at  once  distinguishable  by  the  nature  of 
the  lining ;  and  there  can  be  no  mistake  as  regards  the  eggs, 
as  every  boy  knows. 


77 


HOMES   OVER  THE  WATER 

NESTS  COMPOSED  OF  LICHENS 

In  Great  Britain,  as  we  have  already  seen,  the  Crossbills 
use  a  variety  of  materials  in  the  construction  of  their  nests. 
In  Sweden,  however,  they  often  build  them  almost  entirely 
of  lichens ;  and  on  one  occasion  I  discovered  such  a  nest  in 
the  north  of  Scotland,  in  a  large  fir  wood,  where  the  trees 
are  hoary  with  tufts  and  tresses  of  this  kind  of  vegetation.1 

NESTS  BUILT  OF  MARSH  PLANTS,  RUSHES,  &c. 

Most  of  the  birds  that  are  found  living  in  marshy  places 
build  their  nests  amongst  the  rushes  which  grow  about  the 
water's  edge.  But  this  situation  is  not  without  its  dis- 
advantages, for  animals  of  all  sorts  are  in  the  habit  of 
coming  to  the  sides  of  streams  and  ponds,  which  form  an 
attractive  hunting-ground  for  many  of  them,  not  excepting 
man  himself ;  so  that  if  every  species  of  water  bird  were  to 
nest  there,  not  a  few  of  them  would  run  considerable  risk  of 
being  disturbed,  and  perhaps  destroyed.  So  some  kinds  very 
wisely  build  over  the  surface  of  the  water,  where  they  are  in 
less  danger  of  being  interfered  with. 

Now  and  then  we  find  a  bird  taking  advantage  of  a  little 
hummock  of  earth  that  stands  above  the  level  of  the  water, 
or  a  deserted  shelter  that  has  been  used  for  wild-duck  shoot- 
ing, or  a  drifted  heap  of  weeds  and  rushes,  or  even  a  piece  of 
stranded  timber ;  but  as  a  rule  such  things  are  not  available, 
and  the  most  natural  expedient  is  for  the  bird  to  support  its 
nest  on  the  reeds  and  rushes  growing  out  of  the  water. 
This  is  what  the  Sedge  Warblers  do;  on  the  other  hand, 
Coots  and  Moorhens,  which  are  much  heavier  birds,  some- 
times construct  a  sort  of  half-floating  stage  which  they 
anchor  amongst  the  rushes  or  other  water  plants.  The 
Black  Tern,  too,  does  exactly  the  same  thing. 

1  J.  L. 
78 


SLENDER  FOUNDATIONS 

Twigs  and  earth  would  not  be  well  adapted  to  such 
conditions,  so  we  find  that  the  building  materials  generally 
used  are  much  the  same  as  those  employed  by  shrikes  and 
woodcock.  There  used  to  be  another  bird  in  this  country 
that  had  similar  nesting  habits.  It  was  known  as  Savi's 
Warbler  (Locustella  luscinoides\  and  not  very  many  years  ago 
it  was  a  constant  inhabitant  of  the  Cambridgeshire  fens; 
but  drainage  has  destroyed  its  favourite  haunts,  and  you 
would  be  fortunate  indeed  if  you  were  to  come  across  a 
specimen  nowadays. 

Although  the  materials  for  its  nest  are  the  same,  the 
Reed  Warbler  sets  to  work  in  a  manner  very  different  from 
those  birds  we  have  just  mentioned,  so  perhaps  you  would 
like  to  hear  about  it.  Suppose  we  take  as  an  example  the 
Great  Reed  Warbler  or  Reed  Thrush  (Acrocephalus  arundina- 
ceus\  a  bird  which  is  common  enough  on  the  Continent, 
though  it  does  not  often  pay  a  visit  to  our  country. 

In  building  its  nest  the  reed  thrush  has  to  take  great  care 
to  fasten  it  quite  securely  to  its  support,  because  the  eggs 
would  sink  if  they  were  to  fall  into  the  water,  and  the  young 
birds  too,  not  being  provided  with  webbed  feet,  are  unable 
to  swim.  Now  the  nest  itself  weighs  fully  two  ounces,  and 
when  it  contains  the  hen  bird  with  her  five  eggs  that  weight 
is  more  than  doubled.  When  the  young  fledglings  are 
almost  big  enough  to  leave  the  nest  the  whole  mass  that  has 
to  be  supported  may  amount  to  as  much  as  three-quarters  of 
a  pound — far  more  than  any  single  reed  could  be  expected 
to  carry!  So  the  very  first  thing  the  bird  has  to  do  is 
to  find  at  least  three  reeds  which  grow  at  about  equal 
distances  apart,  and  in  such  a  way  that  they  may  support  the 
nest  at  three  or  more  points  of  its  circumference.  That, 
however,  is  not  enough ;  the  reeds  are  all  the  better  for  the 
purpose  if  they  have  leaves  which  form  a  fork  with  the  stem, 

79 


NATURE'S   CEMENT 

and  are  attached  to  it  at  a  convenient  height,  that  is  to  say, 
at  about  a  foot  or  a  foot  and  a  half  above  the  water ;  not 
too  near  the  surface,  but  not  too  high  up  either,  because 
there  the  stems  would  be  so  flexible  that  they  would  bend 
under  the  weight  of  a  nest. 

Having  at  length  found  three  or  four  convenient  reeds, 
the  bird  proceeds  to  make  the  framework  and  lay  the  founda- 
tion of  its  nest ;  it  has  no  scaffolding  to  stand  on — not  even 
a  twig — so  it  is  obliged  to  maintain  itself  in  an  upright 
position  on  one  slender,  swaying  stem  whilst  carrying  out 
this  very  important  task.  However,  in  spite  of  all  difficulties, 
the  little  workman  labours  most  industriously.  He  looks 
about  amongst  the  rushes  and  reeds  and  sedges  for  withered 
leaves  which  are  about  a  foot  in  length  and  not  too  stiff;  he 
moistens  them  and  puts  them  together  so  that  they  form 
a  fairly  stout  thong,  and  places  it  in  the  fork  of  a  leaf. 
Then  he  gives  it  a  twist  round  the  stem  of  the  reed,  then 
round  the  next  one,  and  so  on,  doing  the  same  with  other 
pieces  of  dried  grass,  all  in  the  most  careful  fashion,  until  at 
length  the  reed  stems  are  connected  with  one  another  just 
as  you  might  tie  them  with  a  piece  of  string  or  gardener's 


Working  in  this  manner  from  below  upwards,  he  at  length 
succeeds  in  weaving  the  walls  of  his  nest,  very  much  as  a 
basket-maker  plaits  a  basket. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  a  reed  is  not  forked  in  a  place 
quite  convenient  for  his  purpose ;  then  the  bird  moistens 
pieces  of  dried  grass  with  his  saliva,  and  when  these  are 
rolled  round  the  stem  they  adhere  quite  firmly.  By  the 
same  means  he  sticks  to  the  framework  of  the  walls,  and 
especially  to  the  bottom  of  the  nest,  fragments  of  broad 
grasses,  leaves,  and  so  on,  which  he  plasters  well  over.  After 
this,  to  make  all  comfortable,  he  adds  a  lining  of  the  finest 

80 


A  BEAUTIFUL  CRADLE 

herbage  and  vegetable  down,  gathered  from  the  neighbouring 
plants. 

If  during  the  building  operations  any  of  the  fastenings 
and  ties  seem  to  be  weak  or  likely  to  come  loose,  others  are 
added,  and  in  this  way  it  comes  about  that  some  nests  are  as 
much  as  ten  inches  high.  In  all  cases  they  are  so  deep  that 
when  the  sedges  sway  about  in  a  high  wind  there  is  not  the 
slightest  danger  of  eggs  or  young  ones  falling  out. 

The  edge  of  the  nest  is  strengthened  with  coarse  grasses 
woven  and  interwoven  like  the  top  of  a  basket ;  so  you  see 
the  reed  thrush  leaves  nothing  undone  to  provide  for  its 
offspring  a  cradle  which  is  both  strong  and  springy;  and 
warm  too,  even  though  it  hangs  over  the  open  water  of  a 
pond  or  marsh. 

Our  native  Reed  Warbler  (Acrocephalus  streperus)  builds 
its  nest  in  a  similar  manner,  but  it  is  altogether  a  smaller 
and  lighter  structure  than  that  of  the  reed  thrush  just 
described,  though  by  no  means  less  beautiful.  Sometimes 
the  most  extraordinary  skill  is  shown  in  the  way  the  nest 
is  poised.  I  have  seen  some  which  were  attached  at  one  side 
to  a  twig  of  a  shrub  which  overhung  the  river,  and  on  the 
other  to  a  reed  growing  in  quite  a  different  direction ;  others 
I  have  found  were  suspended  like  an  oriole's  nest.1  The 
cuckoo  frequently  deposits  an  egg  in  the  nest  of  this  species. 

The  Coot  (Fulica  atra) — sometimes  called  the  "Bald 
Coot  *  on  account  of  the  horny  oval  white  patch  on  the 
forehead,  which  shows  up  in  strong  contrast  with  the  black 
plumage — is  quite  a  common  bird  in  many  parts  of  Britain. 
Its  nest  is  a  very  strong  and  compact  structure,  and  of  great 
bulk,  hundreds  of  reeds,  sedges,  rushes,  etc.,  being  used  in 
its  construction.  Its  foundation  is  often  below  the  surface 
of  the  water;  yet  so  solid  does  the  coot  contrive  to  make 

1  H.  C. 
ll 


HOMES  ON  THE  WATER 

this  great  mass  of  material  that  it  is  often  capable  of  sup- 
porting a  very  considerable  weight.  Sometimes  the  bird 
takes  advantage  of  a  small  islet  covered  with  rank  grass, 
or  a  thick  tuft  of  flags  or  rushes  which  grow  out  of  the 
water,  above  the  surface  of  which  the  hollow  of  the  nest  is 
never  raised  more  than  a  few  inches.  When  the  coot  has 
found  a  clump  of  reeds  to  its  liking,  it  twists  and  binds 
them  together  so  that  they  form  a  firm  support  on  which  it 
piles  up  the  coarse  materials  of  its  nest,  winding  the  long 
stems  and  blades  round  and  round  until  the  walls  are  strong 
enough.  Occasionally  the  nest  does  not  form  an  absolutely 
solid  mass  based  on  a  fixed  foundation,  but  is  rather  anchored 
amongst  the  reeds  and  only  partly  supported  by  them,  the 
buoyant  nature  of  the  materials  of  which  it  is  built  helping 
to  keep  the  upper  part  of  the  structure  above  water.  In 
any  case,  the  bird  nearly  always  contrives  to  build  in  some 
situation  which  cannot  easily  be  reached  from  the  land.  Al- 
though it  is  so  bulky,  the  nest  is  by  no  means  a  conspicuous 
object,  so  perfectly  does  it  harmonize  with  its  surroundings, 
as  do  also  the  dingy,  stone-coloured,  brown-spotted  eggs,  of 
which  the  bird  usually  lays  from  seven  to  twelve. 

The  Moorhen,  or  Water-hen  (Gallinula  chloropus),  makes  a 
somewhat  similar  nest,  but  is  far  less  particular  about  the 
exact  locality  in  which  it  is  placed.  It  is  invariably  found 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  water,  but  it  may  be  on  a  mass  of 
flags  and  rushes,  or  on  the  bank  well  above  high- water  mark, 
or  even  on  the  branch  of  a  tree — very  often  on  one  that 
overhangs  and  dips  into  the  water,  in  which  case  the  nest 
may  readily  be  mistaken  for  a  mass  of  weeds  which  has 
drifted  down  the  stream  and  been  intercepted  by  the  branch 
— such  a  mass  as  you  may  constantly  see  after  flood-time. 
Mr.  Waterton,  the  famous  naturalist,  tells  us  that  a  little 
brick  house  which  he  had  built  for  a  duck,  and  furnished 

82 


CONCEALING  THE  EGGS 

with  a  comfortable  nest  of  hay,  was  unexpectedly  occupied 
by  a  moorhen,  to  the  exclusion  of  its  rightful  tenant.  So 
you  see  this  bird  can  make  itself  quite  at  home  in  a  variety 
of  situations. 

When  leaving  its  nest  deliberately — that  is  to  say,  when 
it  is  not  disturbed  and  obliged  to  retreat  hurriedly — the 
moorhen,  like  certain  other  birds,  has  a  habit  of  covering 
her  eggs  with  the  same  kind  of  material  as  the  nest  is  com- 
posed of,  and  thus  concealing  them  from  the  sight  of 
possible  intruders.  The  young  birds  are  excellent  swimmers 
from  the  first,  and  they  take  to  the  water  almost  as  soon  as 
they  emerge  from  the  shell. 

FLOATING  NESTS 

The  beautiful  Water-pheasant  of  India,  Ceylon,  and 
Kashmir  (Hydrophasianus  chlrurgus)  makes  a  nest  of  grass 
and  similar  herbage,  which  floats  on  the  surface  of  the  water, 
though  occasionally,  when  built  in  a  rice  patch,  it  is  more  or 
less  fixed  or  anchored  to  the  growing  stems. 

The  Little  Grebe,  commonly  known  as  the  Dabchick 
(Podicipes  jluviatilis\  is  equally  aquatic  in  its  nesting  habits. 
Almost  every  patch  of  water  of  moderate  depth,  and  not 
too  rapid,  is  frequented  by  these  expert  little  divers.  The 
nest  is  a  heap  of  water  weeds  somewhere  about  the  edge  of 
the  water  or  in  a  reed  bed ;  it  is  invariably  steeped  in  wet, 
and  is  very  often  half  floating.  The  eggs,  four  to  six  in 
number,  are  white  when  laid,  but  they  very  quickly  become 
stained  and  discoloured  with  mud  and  the  decaying  weeds  on 
which  they  lie.  Some  people  think  the  bird  daubs  them 
over  intentionally  in  order  to  render  them  less  conspicuous ; 
however  that  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  when  leaving  the 
nest  it  covers  them  over  with  weeds,  often  taking  advantage 

83 


BUILDING  ENTHUSIASTS 

of  its  skill  in  diving  in  order  to  obtain  material  for  that 
purpose.  As  in  the  case  of  the  moorhen,  the  young  dab- 
chicks  swim  and  dive  almost  as  soon  as  they  are  hatched. 

MULTIPLE  NESTS 

As  a  rule,  a  bird  loses  no  time  in  proceeding  to  the  more 
serious  business  of  bringing  up  a  young  family  when  once  its 
nest  is  completed,  though,  as  we  have  seen,  much  labour  and 
skill  and  loving  care  may  be  devoted  to  the  preparation  of 
their  nursery.  But  some  birds  appear  to  revel  in  the  exer- 
cise of  their  craftsmanship  to  such  a  degree  that  they  are  not 
content  with  making  one  nest ;  they  build  and  even  com- 
plete several  before  finally  settling  down  to  family  life.  We 
have  already  mentioned  an  instance  of  this  exuberant  in- 
stinct for  construction  in  our  chapter  on  the  masons,  but 
the  Syrian  Nuthatch  is  by  no  means  the  only  example.  The 
common  Siskin  (Spinus  viridis)  has  similar  proclivities,  and 
in  both  cases  the  peculiar  habit  of  these  birds  seems  equally 
unaccountable,  for  owing  to  their  manner  of  nesting  they 
are  not  very  liable  to  be  molested,  and  to  us  there  does  not 
appear  to  be  any  particular  reason  why  they  should  abandon 
a  nest  which,  as  far  as  we  are  able  to  judge,  is  perfectly 
adapted  to  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  intended,  and  begin 
their  labour  all  over  again. 

The  siskin  inhabits  countries  from  the  British  Isles  east- 
ward as  far  as  Japan,  nesting  chiefly  in  the  more  northerly 
regions.  It  is  a  lively  little  bird,  and  until  the  fledglings 
leave  the  nest  the  cock  bird  sings  merrily,  especially  while  on 
the  wing.  It  is  seldom  known  to  build  in  England,  but 
in  Scotland,  amongst  its  favourite  firs  and  pines,  it  does  so 
regularly. 

The  nest  is  very  similar  to  that  of  the  goldfinch,  but  it  is 
not  finished  with  the  same  extreme  neatness.  That,  how- 

84 


AERIES 

tver,  is  a  distinct  advantage ;  placed  as  it  usually  is,  on  or 
near  the  lichen-covered  branch  of  a  fir  tree,  the  outside  of 
the  nest,  loosely  woven  with  the  same  sort  of  grey  vegeta- 
tion, harmonizes  so  wonderfully  with  its  surroundings  that 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  detect  it  from  below,  and  even 
from  above,  whence  it  might  be  recognized  by  the  [cavity, 
it  is  often  so  perfectly  concealed  by  a  branch  as  to  escape 
notice  even  at  close  quarters.  It  is  quite  possible  that  you 
may  watch  a  siskin  busily  engaged  in  building  its  nest  and 
yet,  on  climbing  the  tree,  be  quite  unable  to  discover  the 
structure.  This  has  given  rise  to  a  curious  belief  in  some  parts 
of  the  Continent  that  these  birds  place  in  their  nests  stones 
which  have  the  property  of  making  them  invisible. 

NESTS  MADE  CHIEFLY  OF  STICKS,  TWIGS,  &c. 

Birds  which  make  the  framework  of  their  nests  of  twigs 
and  sticks  are  very  numerous,  and  include  nearly  all  the 
diurnal  birds  of  prey  (such  as  eagles,  falcons,  hawks,  kites, 
harriers,  vultures,  and  buzzards),  besides  many  others. 

It  is  perhaps  rather  an  excess  of  courtesy  to  include  some 
of  these  birds  amongst  the  makers  of  basket-work ;  their 
nests  are  commonly  quite  coarsely  and  roughly  made,  the 
best  of  them  being  feebly  suggestive  of  those  carelessly  con- 
structed wicker  trays  which  are  used  in  some  countries  for 
carrying  fruit  and  fish ;  while  others  are  mere  faggots,  thrown 
together  with  very  little  attempt  at  arrangement.  Such 
structures  can  scarcely  be  called  nests  at  all,  and  it  is  for- 
tunate that  in  the  case  of  the  larger  birds  of  prey  we 
have  another  term  to  apply  to  them.  This  is  the  word 
"  aerie  "  or  "  eyry,"  which  is  generally  used  when  speaking  of 
the  loftily  situated  nest  of  an  eagle. 

The  Golden  Eagle  (Aquila  chrysaetus)  usually  makes  his 
eyry  on  a  rocky  platform  high  on  the  face  of  a  precipice  in 
some  wild  mountainous  district,  often  below  an  overhanging 
F  85 


NOTICE   OF  TENANCY 

crag,  so  that  it  can  be  neither  seen  nor  approached  from 
above.  There  he  piles  up  a  heap  of  sticks,  some  of  them  of 
a  considerable  size  and  an  inch  or  more  in  thickness.  The 
nest  is  a  very  large  one,  often  fully  five  feet  in  diameter, 
and  as  the  birds  utilize  the  same  eyry  year  after  year,  and 
add  to  it  in  each  successive  season,  it  may  attain  to  an 
enormous  bulk,  some  old  nests  containing,  it  is  stated,  as 
much  as  two  cartloads  of  materials  !  As  the  latter  are 
stout  and  unpliable  it  is  obvious  that  the  bird  could  do 
very  little  in  the  way  of  weaving  them  together,  and  there 
is  practically  no  attempt  at  anything  of  the  kind,  the  sticks 
being  merely  laid  across  one  another  and  holding  together 
by  their  very  roughness  and  irregularity.  The  hollow  of 
the  nest  is  but  slight,  and  even  when  it  is  lined  with  softer 
materials — which  is  by  no  means  always  the  case — it  is 
difficult  to  imagine  how  it  can  form  a  comfortable  bed  for 
the  young  birds.  The  eagle  is  an  indefatigable  hunter, 
and  in  districts  where  prey  is  plentiful  its  larder  is  kept 
well  stocked  with  game  of  all  kinds,  such  as  hares,  rabbits, 
grouse,  ducks,  geese,  and  partridges,  while  sometimes  even 
lambs  and  fawns  are  carried  thither  by  this  powerful  bird. 
In  America  the  little  "prairie-dog11  is  a  frequent  victim. 
In  Colorado  when  an  old  nest  has  been  repaired  the  bird 
places  a  bough  of  evergreen  upon  it,  as  if  to  give  notice  to 
other  birds  that  the  eyry  is  no  longer  unoccupied.  When 
a  rocky  ledge  is  not  available  the  nest  is  placed  on  some 
great  tree,  one  which  commands  a  wide  look-out  being 
almost  invariably  chosen. 

The  smaller  birds  of  prey,  such  as  Kestrels,  Sparrow- 
hawks,  Hobbies,  and  Buzzards,  frequently  avoid  the  trouble 
of  building  by  taking  possession  of  the  deserted  structure 
of  some  other  bird,  more  especially  that  of  a  crow  or  mag- 
pie; they  are  even  said  to  annex  a  new  nest  on  some 

86 


AN   INTERESTING  FAGGOT 

occasions,  driving  away  the  unfortunate  owner  by  force. 
But  though  they  are  always  ready  to  act  on  the  principle 
that  "  foolish  folk  build  fine  houses  for  wise  folk  to  live  in," 
when  none  suitable  is  to  be  found  ready-made  these  birds 
resign  themselves  to  the  inevitable  and  build  one  for  them- 
selves. Being  smaller  than  the  kingly  eagle,  it  naturally 
follows  that  they  choose  smaller  sticks  and  twigs;  and  as 
these  are  to  a  certain  extent  pliable,  the  resulting  nest  is 
both  firmer  in  construction  and  shapelier  than  the  eyry  that 
we  have  described  above,  though  still  very  rough  and  rather 
ragged  in  appearance,  as  you  may  see  from  the  picture  of 
the  falcon's  nest  facing  this  page.  M.  Lescuyer  has  dissected 
and  analysed  a  great  number  of  nests  of  all  sorts,  and  it 
may  be  interesting  to  give  an  example  which  is  fairly  typical 
of  all  those  made  by  the  birds  we  are  speaking  of,  because 
we  may  gather  from  it  some  idea  of  the  great  labour  and 
the  many  journeyings  to  and  fro  that  go  to  the  making  of 
even  so  rough  a  structure  as  this.  Suppose  we  take  as  an 
instance  a  buzzard's  nest  which  Lescuyer  tells  us  was  built 
in  an  oak  tree.  He  found  that  the  foundation  was  com- 
posed of  forty-two  fair-sized  oak  twigs  :  over  these  the  bird 
had  placed  a  hundred  and  ninety  finer  twigs  of  the  same 
kind  of  tree,  thirty-five  of  the  holly,  eighty-two  of  the 
birch,  and  a  round  dozen  of  elm  and  aspen — in  all,  just 
three  hundred  and  sixty-one  separate  sticks!  The  slight 
cavity  in  the  middle  was  lined  with  earth,  which  not  only 
helped  by  its  weight  as  ballast  to  make  the  nest  more 
stable,  but  also  formed  a  screen  capable  of  keeping  out  the 
wind,  and  thus  contributed  not  a  little  to  the  warmth  of 
the  nest.  Lastly,  the  bird  had  added  an  inner  lining  of 
extremely  fine  birch  twigs,  mingled  with  bits  of  bark,  roots, 
leaves,  and  lichens,  for  the  eggs  to  rest  on. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that,  as  Professor  Newton  was 

87 


PROTECTION  AND  RUBBISH 

informed,  Honey-buzzards  in  France  erect  a  barrier  of  green 
boughs  around  the  nest  after  the  young  are  hatched,  and 
replace  it  from  time  to  time  as  the  leaves  wither.  Whether 
this  is  intended  to  prevent  the  young  birds  from  falling  out 
of  the  nest,  or  as  a  screen,  is  not  quite  clear ;  probably  it 
serves  both  purposes.  We  can  recall  no  other  instance  of  a 
bird  acting  in  this  manner. 

The  White  Stork  (Ciconia  alba)  is  looked  upon  in  the 
countries  where  it  commonly  dwells,  such  as  Holland  and 
Germany,  as  the  type  of  a  devoted  parent.  It  is  par- 
ticularly fond  of  making  its  nest  on  roofs  and  chimneys, 
where  a  box,  an  old  cart-wheel,  or  some  similar  accommoda- 
tion is  often  provided  for  it  by  the  householder,  who  regards 
the  bird  with  much  favour,  partly  because  it  is  an  excellent 
scavenger.  The  nest  is  a  very  rough  structure  of  sticks, 
lined  with  straw,  dry  leaves,  feathers,  rags,  paper,  or  almost 
any  material  that  the  bird  finds  at  hand.  When  first  built 
it  is  quite  a  shallow  affair,  but  the  birds  return  year  after 
year  and  add  a  little  each  season,  until  at  last  it  may  attain 
a  height  of  several  feet.  Where  there  are  no  buildings,  the 
stork  makes  its  nest  on  rocks  or  trees.  During  the  nesting 
season,  or  when  annoyed,  the  birds  throw  their  heads  back 
and  make  a  loud  clapping  noise  with  their  long,  powerful 
beaks.  The  sound  can  be  heard  at  a  considerable  distance, 
and  it  is  possible  to  recognize  it  when  a  flock  of  storks  is 
passing  overhead  at  so  great  a  height  as  to  be  almost 
invisible,  as  I  have  several  times  observed  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Tangier  in  the  early  part  of  the  year,  when  these 
birds  migrate  northward.1 

Though  birds  are  the  principal  makers  of  basket-work, 
they  are  not  quite  alone  in  practising  that  industry,  for  the 
great  man-like  apes  weave  beds  for  themselves,  and  perhaps 

*  J.  L. 
88 


APES   AND  THEIR  BEDS 

canopies  too,  in  some  cases  ;  but  there  appears  to  be  a  great 
deal  of  confusion  in  the  various  accounts  of  these  structures 
that  have  been  given  from  time  to  time.  This  is  perhaps 
not  altogether  surprising,  because  not  only  are  the  regions 
where  the  great  apes  dwell  difficult  of  access,  so  that  but 
few  people  ever  visit  them,  but  as  the  animals  are  shy  and 
easily  disturbed,  they  are  seldom  seen  occupying  their  nests ; 
and  when  the  structure  is  deserted  it  is  perhaps  not  always 
easy  to  tell  exactly  the  manner  in  which  it  is  used,  or  to  what 
species  it  belongs. 

But  although  we  cannot  speak  with  certainty  about  these 
"  nests "  or  beds  or  shelters  in  every  particular,  we  are  able 
to  form  a  general  idea  of  their  character  from  the  accounts 
given  by  various  travellers. 

The  Chimpanzee  (Anthropoplthecus  niger)  makes  his  bed 
on  trees,  far  from  the  abodes  of  men.  Some  travellers  have 
stated  that  the  animal  constructs  a  regular  hut  for  itself  or 
for  its  family,  but  this  seems  to  be  an  error.  According  to 
Dr.  Savage's  observations  published  in  the  Boston  Journal  of 
Natural  History  as  long  ago  as  1843,  the  chimpanzee  builds 
his  nest  or  bed  by  bending  or  partly  breaking  branches  and 
twigs  in  such  a  way  that  they  rest  on  a  large  limb  of  the  tree, 
or  in  a  crotch.  The  materials  are  crossed  and  perhaps  inter- 
woven a  little  so  that  they  form  a  fairly  firm  platform  which 
may  be  as  high  as  fifty  feet  from  the  ground,  though  it  is 
usually  not  more  than  twenty  or  thirty.  The  male  animal  is 
said  to  spend  the  night  on  a  branch  underneath  the  nest,  and 
perhaps  that  accounts  for  the  belief  to  which  we  have 
already  referred,  that  he  constructs  a  sort  of  shed. 

These  retreats  are  not  permanent,  but  are  changed  in 
pursuit  of  food  or  solitude,  according  to  circumstances.  As 
a  rule  they  are  found  in  elevated  situations,  because  the  low 
grounds  are  often  cleared  by  the  natives  for  their  villages 

89 


PAUL  DU  CHAILLU'S   STORY 

and  rice  farms.  It  is  seldom  that  more  than  one  or  two  nests 
are  seen  upon  the  same  tree  or  in  the  same  neighbourhood, 
for,  unlike  the  monkeys,  these  apes  associate  in  pairs  or  family 
parties  of  two  adults  and  from  two  to  four  young  ones,  rather 
than  in  gangs.  Occasionally,  however,  four  or  five  pairs  are 
known  to  take  up  their  quarters  at  no  great  distance  apart, 
and  sometimes  they  assemble  in  rather  large  bands  which 
go  on  excursions  together. 

According  to  Paul  Du  Chaillu,  the  Anthropopithecus 
calvus,  a  near  relation  of  Anthropopithecus  niger  which 
inhabits  the  same  districts,  makes  a  still  more  elaborate 
shelter,  as  you  may  see  from  the  picture  in  that  traveller's 
book  on  Explorations  and  Adventures  in  Equatorial  Africa. 
He  states  that  these  animals  make  their  nest  about  fifteen  or 
twenty  feet  from  the  ground  on  a  tree  which  stands  a  little 
apart  from  others  and  which  has  no  limbs  below  the  one  on 
which  the  nest  is  placed — probably  in  order  that  they  may 
be  safe  at  night  from  beasts,  serpents,  and  falling  branches. 
They  build  only  in  the  loneliest  parts  of  the  forest,  and  are 
so  shy  that  they  are  seldom  seen  even  by  the  negroes. 
Du  Chaillu  was  informed  by  the  natives  that  the  male  and 
female  together  collect  the  leafy  branches  and  strong  creepers 
of  which  the  nests  are  made.  The  branches  are  tied  to  the 
tree  in  the  middle  of  the  structure  by  means  of  pieces  of 
wild  vine  and  creepers,  and  are  so  arranged  that  they  form  a 
thick,  leafy  roof  which  is  rounded  at  the  top  so  as  to  make  a 
shelter  capable  of  keeping  out  the  rain,  like  an  umbrella. 
Under  this  roof  the  animal  is  said  to  rest  on  a  projecting 
bough,  with  its  arm  about  the  trunk.  The  male  and  female 
do  not  occupy  the  same  tree,  but  have  nests  not  far  apart. 
When  the  leaves  become  so  dry  that  the  roof  is  no  longer 
watertight,  or  when  he  has  eaten  all  the  berries  in  the 
neighbourhood,  the  owner  builds  a  new  shelter  in  another 

90 


A  FAMILY  PARTY  OF  CHIMPANZEES  IN  THEIR  HOME 

The  chimpanzee  makes  a  bed  of  branches  about  thirty  feet  from  the  ground.    The  male 
chimpanzee  is  said  to  sleep  on  a  bough  underneath  the  bed. 


THE   ORANG-OUTANG'S   COUCH 

spot.  Nowadays  naturalists  doubt  the  accuracy  of  Du 
Chaillu's  description  of  this  wonderful  structure.  It  is  cer- 
tain, however,  that  this  bald  chimpanzee  possesses  intelli- 
gence beyond  that  of  other  animals,  for  the  famous  Sally,  who 
lived  for  eight  years  at  the  Zoological  Gardens  in  London, 
was  taught  before  her  death  to  count  up  to  ten  straws,  and 
her  education  was  still  progressing  when  she  succumbed  to 
our  climate. 

For  a  long  time  people  differed  in  their  opinions  as  to 
whether  the  Orang-outang  (Simia  satyrus),  that  great  man- 
like ape  of  Sumatra  and  Borneo,  made  a  "nest"  or  not,  but 
that  it  does  so  is  now  quite  certain  on  the  evidence  of  such 
famous  naturalists  as  Mr.  Wallace  and  Professor  Selenka. 
The  orangs  make  their  homes  in  the  great  primeval  forests, 
dense  and  unbroken,  through  which  they  are  able  to  travel 
from  tree  to  tree  as  easily  as  a  man  can  traverse  open 
country. 

The  nest  or  sleeping-place,  Mr.  Wallace  informs  us,  is 
usually  constructed  in  one  of  the  smaller  trees  at  no  very 
great  distance  from  the  ground,  being  seldom  situated 
higher  than  fifty  feet  or  so.  It  is  therefore  well  protected 
from  wind  by  the  taller  trees  around.  Professor  Selenka 
sent  one  of  these  nests  to  the  Berlin  Academy.  It  consists 
of  a  sort  of  platform  about  a  yard  and  a  half  in  length  and 
from  twelve  to  thirty  inches  wide,  composed  of  sticks  half 
an  inch  or  an  inch  thick.  These  sticks  all  run  more  or  less  in 
the  same  direction  and  are  simply  placed  side  by  side  or 
one  upon  another,  without  any  attempt  at  interweaving, 
forming  a  bed  eight  or  nine  inches  deep ;  and  most  of  them 
are  broken  in  the  middle  and  doubled  up,  so  that  the  two 
ends  of  a  stick  come  together.  To  make  his  bed  softer  and 
more  comfortable,  the  orang  allows  the  leaves  to  remain  on 
the  branches  just  as  they  are  when  he  tears  them  from  the 


IGNORANCE  CONCERNING  GORILLAS 

tree,  and  he  covers  the  surface  with  more  big  leaves  of  the 
same  kind. 

The  Dyaks  believe  that  the  animal  makes  himself  a  fresh 
bed  every  night,  but  Mr.  Wallace  thinks  if  that  were  so  the 
nests  would  be  much  more  common  than  they  appear  to  he. 
In  passing  through  the  forests,  however,  one  may  come  upon 
a  dozen  of  them  in  a  single  day,  so  it  is  just  possible  that 
the  Dyaks  are  correct  in  their  opinion,  for  in  spite  of  the 
sheltered  position  in  which  these  loosely  made  platforms  are 
placed,  the  strong  winds  must  at  last  blow  them  to  pieces. 

If  you  observe  an  orang  as  he  lies  sleeping,  with  legs 
drawn  up  and  folded  arms,  you  will  be  able  to  judge  how 
nicely  the  bed  we  have  described  is  proportioned  to  his  size. 

The  Gorilla  (Gorilla,  savagei)  appears  to  make  a  bed  of 
reed-like  herbage  on  the  ground  or  on  the  trunk  of  a  large 
tree  at  a  distance  of  a  few  feet  from  the  earth.  It  was 
stated  by  a  German  traveller,  Herr  von  Koppenfels,  that 
this  creature  constructed  a  sort  of  nest  in  the  trees  by  bend- 
ing boughs  together  and  covering  them  with  moss  and  twigs. 
On  this  couch  the  female  and  young  were  stated  to  pass  the 
night,  the  male  remaining  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  to  guard 
them  from  the  attacks  of  leopards.  This  account,  how- 
ever, does  not  receive  support  from  other  travellers,  and 
we  have  still  much  to  learn  concerning  the  habits  of  these 
huge  creatures — the  largest  and  most  powerful  of  the  apes. 


CHAPTER  V 

ARCHITECTS  OF  SPHERICAL 
DWELLINGS 

The  advantage  of  spherical  architecture— The  astute  sparrow—An  evil 
reputation — Magpie  fortifications— False  pretences— The  wren's  many 
houses— A  tiresome  partner— Catholic  tastes— The  squirrel's  "  drey  " 
— Changing  quarters— A  Lilliputian  genius— Sticklebacks'  nests — 
" Jack-sharps"  and  "tinkers" — Homeric  combats  —  Making  a 
home— Wedding  finery — Bringing  home  the  partner— A  careful  father 
—Fierce  battles. 

ATIMALS  which  build  nests  shaped  like  a  hollow  ball, 
with  an  opening  in  the  side,  use  materials  similar  to 
those  employed  in  the  construction  of  the  cup-like 
nests  which  we  have  already  described,  but  their  dwellings 
have  one  obvious  advantage  over  the  latter  in  possessing  a 
roof,  and  thus  affording  more  complete  shelter  and  protec- 
tion to  the  inmates. 

Such  nests  are  made  not  only  by  many  kind  of  birds,  but 
by  mammals  also,  and  strange  as  it  may  seem,  even  by  fishes. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  examples  of  the  spherical  style 
of  architecture  is  furnished  by  that  familiar  (in  every  sense 
of  the  word)  acquaintance  of  man,  the  common  Sparrow, 
whose  scientific  name  of  Passer  domesticity  at  once  suggests 
its  inveterate  habit  of  attaching  itself  to  human  habita- 
tions. The  birds  which  aroused  Evander  at  dawn  by  their 

twittering — 

Evandrum  ex  humili  tecto  lux  suscitat  alma 
Et  raatutini  volucrum  sub  tegmine  cantus— 

93 


THE  ASTUTE  SPARROW 

were  no  doubt  sparrows.  In  any  nook  or  hole  in  a  wall  or 
under  a  roof,  the  hollow  of  a  waterspout,  the  thatch  of  a 
barn,  a  chimney — wherever  there  is  room  for  its  bulky  nest, 
there  the  sparrow  will  establish  itself  with  the  utmost  con- 
fidence. Often  it  takes  possession  of  the  nest  of  a  house 
martin  after  driving  away  the  rightful  occupants,  though  it 
occasionally  suffers  for  its  audacity,  for  the  martins  have  been 
known  to  "  make  the  punishment  fit  the  crime "  by  walling 
up  the  opening  of  the  nest  with  mud,  and  thus  imprisoning 
the  unwelcome  intruder.  At  other  times  the  sparrow  builds 
in  a  hollow  tree,  or  in  the  hole  made  by  a  sand  martin.  The 
interesting  point  is  that  whenever  it  can  find  a  convenient 
shelter  such  as  those  we  have  named,  whether  it  be  under  a 
roof,  in  a  hollow  tree,  or  in  a  hole  in  a  sand-bank,  the 
sparrow  makes  a  cup-shaped  nest ;  it  is  only  when  it  is  placed 
in  an  open  tree  or  hedgerow,  or  in  ivy  or  some  other  exposed 
situation,  that  the  nest  is  spherical.  Then  it  is  thickly 
roofed  over  with  a  dense  mass  of  material  which  effectually 
protects  the  interior  from  rain,  and  it  appears  probable  that 
this  was  the  original  method  of  nidification,  but  that  the 
sparrow  found  it  could  save  itself  a  vast  amount  of  trouble 
and  labour  by  taking  advantage  of  the  roofs  made  by  other 
bipeds,  such  as  men  and  martins,  and  very  astutely  adopted 
a  policy  of  protection  at  the  expense  of  others,  flourishing 
exceedingly  ever  afterwards. 

The  nest  is,  for  the  size  of  the  bird,  a  very  cumbrous 
structure;  it  is  made  of  hay,  straw,  wool,  rags,  scraps  of 
paper,  or  any  other  dry  substance  that  comes  handy,  and  is, 
as  a  rule,  lavishly  lined  with  feathers.  The  sparrow  begins 
housekeeping  early  in  the  season  ;  the  first  brood  is  ready  to 
leave  the  nest  in  May,  and  others  are  produced  in  the  course 
of  a  year.  Owing  to  their  numbers  these  birds,  which  are 
harmless  and  pleasant  companions  in  towns,  do  an  immense 

94 


MAGPIE  FORTIFICATIONS 

amount  of  damage  in  the  country  to  the  crops  in  both  fields 
and  gardens. 

The  nest  of  the  Magpie  (Pica  pica)  is  usually  placed  high 
up  in  the  fork  of  the  tree,  but  is  sometimes  found  in  thorn 
bushes  and  tall  hedges.  It  is  a  large  domed  structure  com- 
posed mainly  of  dry  branches,  the  projecting  thorns  on 
which  render  it  very  secure  from  the  intrusion  of  the  smaller 
birds  of  prey.  The  lower  part  of  the  nest  forms  a  deep  cup, 
and  the  sticks  are  there  cemented  together  by  a  layer  of  mud 
or  clay.  Within  there  is  a  double  lining  of  fine  twigs 
and,  lastly,  rootlets;  an  arrangement  which  has  important 
advantages,  for  when  the  nest  is  exposed  to  a  heavy  storm 
a  considerable  quantity  of  rain  may  fall  into  the  cavity 
without  swamping  the  eggs  or  young  before  it  has  time 
to  filter  out  through  the  mud  wall.  Besides  this,  it  makes 
a  very  springy  bed.  Lescuyer  relates  that  on  one  oc- 
casion when  he  wished  to  secure  a  magpie's  nest,  he  gave 
instructions  for  the  thin  branch  on  which  it  was  situated 
to  be  sawn  off  the  tree.  This  was  done;  the  nest  and 
bough  fell  to  the  ground  together,  a  distance  of  about 
seventy  feet,  but  so  soft  and  elastic  was  the  lining  of  the  nest 
that  the  single  egg  which  it  contained  was  found  to  be 
uninjured. 

For  the  dome  of  the  nest  the  bird  selects  long,  tough, 
thorny  twigs,  which  it  fixes  firmly  into  the  general  structure 
and  crosses  in  all  directions,  so  that  they  form  an  open  net- 
work which  does  not  entirely  conceal  the  interior ;  neverthe- 
less, it  constitutes  a  strong  fortification  which  makes  it 
possible  for  the  magpie  to  build  in  an  isolated  tree  where  its 
nest  is  often  a  conspicuous  object.  As  this  bird  is  not 
armed  with  beak  and  claws  capable  of  placing  it  on  equal 
terms  with  the  birds  of  prey,  it  would  in  such  a  situation 
stand  a  poor  chance  in  the  struggle  for  existence  if  the  nest 

95 


FALSE  PRETENCES 

were  not  provided  with  some  such  defensive  covering.  Two 
openings  which  are  left  in  the  sides  afford  the  magpie  a 
convenient  way  of  passing  in  and  out,  but  they  are  only  just 
as  wide  as  is  absolutely  necessary  for  that  purpose,  so  that 
any  large  bird,  such  as  the  buzzard  or  carrion  crow,  would 
find  itself  at  a  disadvantage  in  attempting  to  make  its  way 
into  the  nest  with  hostile  intentions  (illustration,  p.  87). 

It  has  often  been  observed  that  magpies  have  a  habit  of 
building  several  nests  at  the  same  time,  though  they  only 
finish  the  one  which  is  destined  to  contain  the  eggs.  Their 
object  appears  to  be  that  of  putting  their  enemies  on  the 
wrong  scent. 

Mr.  Nordmann  says :  "  Four  or  five  pairs  of  magpies 
have  nested  for  several  years  past  in  the  Botanical  Gardens 
at  Odessa,  where  I  live.  The  birds  know  me  very  well 
— me  and  my  gun — and  although  they  have  never  been 
molested,  they  are  up  to  all  sorts  of  tricks  to  mislead  any 
one  who  appears  to  be  watching  them.  They  build  in 
a  little  wood  of  old  ash  trees  not  far  from  the  houses, 
between  which  and  the  wood  there  are  some  acacias  and 
large  elms.  In  these  trees  the  wily  birds  build  sham  nests, 
every  pair  making  at  least  three  or  four,  and  this  keeps 
them  busy  until  March.  During  the  day,  especially  when 
they  perceive  anybody  watching  them,  they  are  as  busy  as 
can  be,  and  if  by  chance  some  one  comes  to  disturb  them  they 
fly  around  the  trees  and  make  a  great  deal  of  noise  and  fuss; 
but  all  that  is  the  merest  pretence,  for  all  the  while  they 
gradually  push  on  with  the  construction  of  the  nest  in  which 
they  intend  to  lay,  working  there  very  quietly  and  secretly, 
as  it  were,  at  daybreak  and  at  dusk.  If  some  inquisitive 
person  surprises  them  when  so  engaged,  they  immediately 
fly  back,  without  a  sound,  to  their  other  nests,  and  set 
to  work  again  as  though  nothing  had  happened,  in  the  same 

96 


A  TIRESOME  PARTNER 

noisy,  excited  way  as  before,  with  the  object  of  distracting 
attention." 

Very  different  from  the  rough,  strongly  fortified  construc- 
tion we  have  just  described,  the  thorny  walls  of  which 
seem  to  cry  out  a  warning  noli  me  tangere  to  possible  in- 
truders, is  the  beautiful  domed  dwelling  made  by  the  Wren 
(Anorihura  troglodytes).  The  fondness  for  building  seems  to 
be  even  more  remarkably  developed  in  this  lively  little  bird 
than  in  the  siskin  or  Syrian  nuthatch,  indeed  it  amounts 
almost  to  a  monomania.  Not  only  do  the  paired  wrens 
frequently  make  several  nests,  but  the  cock  birds  which  have 
not  yet  found  a  mate  are  often  equally  industrious.  Many 
explanations  of  this  habit  have  been  suggested,  but  none  of 
them  appears  to  be  quite  satisfactory.  Are  the  nests  in- 
tended merely  for  arbours  or  pleasure  houses,  or  are  they 
built  in  anticipation  of  future  broods?  Bcenigk  observed 
some  wrens  from  April  until  August,  and  saw  one  cock  bird 
almost  finish  four  nests  before  he  met  with  a  partner.  After 
pairing,  the  couple  together  constructed  four  other  nests, 
but  for  some  unknown  reason  they  did  not  settle  down  in 
any  of  them.  At  last  the  hen  bird  lost  all  patience  and 
deserted  her  partner,  who  treated  the  matter  very  philo- 
sophically and  went  on  building  for  several  weeks  longer, 
during  which  time  he  finished  and  abandoned  two  more  nests. 
Many  naturalists  are  of  opinion  that  they  are  intended  as 
houses  of  refuge  to  which  the  birds  can  retreat  for  shelter 
during  inclement  weather,  for  wrens  are  very  susceptible  of 
cold,  and  in  winter- time  a  whole  family  of  them  will  often 
huddle  together  in  some  hole  or  cranny  for  mutual  warmth. 

To  make  good  use  of  any  materials  that  come  to  hand  is 
the  test  of  a  born  craftsman,  and  in  this  the  wren  excels. 
Not  in  the  substance  only,  but  in  the  situation  of  his  nest  he 
displays  most  catholic  tastes ;  it  may  almost  be  said  that  he 

97 


THE   SQUIRREL'S  "DREY" 

can  build  anywhere  and  with  anything.  He  will  fix  his 
dwelling  in  a  tree  or  on  the  ground,  in  the  hollow  of  a  tree 
trunk  or  in  a  hole  in  a  bank  or  wall,  in  a  bush  or  the 
crevice  of  a  rock,  under  a  low  roof  or  the  root  of  a  tree,  or  in 
a  wood  pile.  I  have  seen  them  in  all  these  situations.1  As 
for  materials,  though  the  nest  is  often  carefully  woven  of  moss 
and  lichens,  or  moss,  grass,  and  leaves,  it  is  sometimes  formed 
of  hay  and  straw,  and  frequently  there  is  a  lining  of  feathers. 
The  outer  materials  are  usually  taken  from  the  surroundings, 
and  both  the  nest  as  a  whole  and  the  opening  in  the  side  are 
beautifully  rounded. 

MAMMALS 

The  Squirrel  (Sciurus  vulgaris)  is,  as  everybody  knows, 
arboreal  in  its  habits,  and  the  ease  and  grace  with  which  it 
leaps  from  bough  to  bough  are  wonderful  to  see.  Living 
thus  in  trees,  and  descending  but  seldom  to  the  ground,  it  is 
not  surprising  to  find  that  it  builds  itself  a  dwelling  up 
aloft,  much  as  the  birds  do ;  indeed  it  is  usually  not  satisfied 
with  one  home  but  makes  several,  and  it  is  no  very  un- 
common thing  to  find  a  single  individual  or  a  pair  of 
squirrels  possessed  of  as  many  as  four  nests,  some  of  them 
being,  perhaps,  those  of  magpies  or  crows,  which  the  animal 
has  adapted  to  its  own  use.  The  '  drey '  or  nest  in  which  it 
passes  the  night  and  in  which  the  young  are  reared  is  always, 
however,  constructed  by  the  squirrel  itself,  either  in  the  fork 
of  a  bough  or  in  some  hole  or  hollow  in  the  stem  of  a  tree. 
It  is  ball-shaped,  and  composed  of  twigs,  fibres  of  bark,  and 
leaves,  all  carefully  intertwined.  The  dome  or  upper  part  of 
the  nest  is  dense  and  thick  enough  to  keep  out  the  rain, 
while  the  interior  is  softly  bedded  with  moss  and  leaves. 
The  principal  opening  is  near  the  lower  part  of  the  nest, 
and  usually,  it  is  said,  on  the  east  side ;  there  is  frequently 

1  J.  L. 
98 


CHANGING  QUARTERS 

another  aperture,  smaller  and  not  so  well  defined,  opposite 
this.  During  a  storm  the  openings  are  carefully  blocked 
should  the  wind  happen  to  blow  from  the  side  on  which  they 
are  situated,  and  so  they  are  also  during  the  winter  when,  in 
England  and  other  countries  of  the  northern  parts  of  its 
range,  the  squirrel  hibernates.  Even  in  winter,  however, 
the  animal  ventures  out  at  intervals  on  mild  sunny  days  to 
feed  on  the  stores  of  nuts  and  beech-mast  which  it  has  laid 
up  in  several  of  its  haunts  for  future  use.  It  is  well  known 
that  in  case  of  danger  squirrels  will  at  once  abandon  the 
dwelling  they  happen  to  be  occupying  at  the  time  and  take 
up  fresh  quarters  in  one  of  the  accessory  nests,  removing 
their  young  one  by  one  to  the  new  nursery,  which  may  be 
situated  at  a  considerable  distance  through  the  tree  tops. 

Well  constructed  and  comfortable  as  is  the  nest  of  A 
squirrel,  it  falls  short  of  that  made  by  the  Harvest  Mouse 
(Mus  minutus)  in  both  respects.  This  tiny  creature  is  at 
once  the  most  elegant  and,  excepting  only  the  lesser  shrew, 
the  smallest  of  the  British  mammals,  seldom  weighing  more 
than  one-sixth  of  an  ounce.  It  frequents  cornfields  and 
pastures,  and  is  scarcely  ever  found  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
houses  except  when  carried  home  in  the  sheaves  of  corn.  In 
winter  it  makes  a  burrow  in  which  it  passes  the  cold  months 
in  a  state  of  torpor;  it  is,  however,  of  its  summer  resi- 
dence or  nursery  that  we  have  to  speak.  This  nest  is,  as 
described  by  Gilbert  White  who  first  discovered  the  animal 
in  England,  "  perfectly  round  and  about  the  size  of  a  cricket 
ball.1"  It  is  suspended  amongst  the  cornstalks,  or  occasion- 
ally in  a  bush  two  or  three  feet  from  the  ground,  or  even  on 
a  stem  of  a  reed,  with  which  it  sways  about  in  the  breeze. 
The  walls  are  made  of  blades  of  the  wheat  or  grasses 
amongst  which  the  nest  is  built,  and  are  plaited  and  inter- 
laced with  extraordinary  skill.  The  little  architect  takes 

99 


STICKLEBACKS'  NESTS 

the  broader  leaves  between  its  teeth  and  tears  them  up  into 
strips  before  using  them,  and  the  whole  structure  is  so 
beautifully  and  compactly  woven  together  that  White  found 
it  "  would  roll  across  the  table  without  being  discomposed, 
though  it  contained  eight  little  mice  that  were  naked  and 
blind."  The  nest  is  lined  with  vegetable  down  and  other 
soft  materials,  and  has  a  tiny  opening  in  the  side  which, 
however,  the  mother  takes  care  to  close  whenever  she  leaves 
her  little  ones  while  she  goes  to  feed.  So  ingeniously  and 
perfectly  does  she  cover  up  the  hole  under  these  circum- 
stances that  it  is  a  matter  of  impossibility  to  discover  where 
the  entrance  has  been.  The  young  are  soon  able  to  look 
after  themselves,  and  they  leave  the  nest  before  the  herbage 
of  which  it  is  composed  has  had  time  to  wither.  Their 
nursery  is  thus  always  of  the  same  colour  as  its  surround- 
ings— an  important  consideration  as  far  as  the  safety  of  its 
occupants  is  concerned. 

We  find  other  builders  of  ball-shaped  nests  amongst  the 
fishes,  a  circumstance  which  has  always  seemed  very  wonder- 
ful to  naturalists. 

Everybody  knows  the  common  Stickleback,  a  pretty  little 
fish  which  is  very  plentiful  in  our  ponds  and  streams.  It  is 
no  favourite  amongst  anglers,  because  it  often  comes  to 
nibble  at  their  bait  and  arouses  vain  hopes  which  end  in 
disappointment ;  while  a  man  who  has  a  fish-pond  which  he 
wishes  t6  have  well  stocked  with  carp  and  the  like  becomes 
very  angry  indeed  if  he  finds  sticklebacks  there,  for  their 
numbers  increase  rapidly  and  they  are  greedy  creatures,  so 
that  they  very  soon  destroy  all  the  other  inhabitants  of  the 
pond. 

With  all  the  rest  of  the  world  against  them,  it  is  but  fair 
that  sticklebacks  should  receive  a  little  kindly  attention 
from  learned  people  who  do  not  worry  about  practical 

100 


HOMERIC  COMBATS 

things,  and  who  find  these  fishes  very  interesting  for  several 
reasons. 

The  Three-spined  Stickleback,  or  "  Jack-sharp,"  is  the 
commonest  kind,  though  the  ten-spined  species,  which  is 
popularly  known  in  some  districts  as  the  "  Tinker,'1  is  also 
very  plentiful.  The  Jack -sharp's  body  is  very  thin,  as 
though  it  had  been  squeezed  on  both  sides,  and  ends  in  a 
tail  which  is  not  forked,  but  spreads  out  like  a  fan.  Its 
back  and  sides  are  armed  with  exceedingly  sharp  spines, 
which  lie  close  against  the  body  when  their  owner  is 
undisturbed,  but  stick  out  and  look  very  terrible  indeed 
when  he  thinks  he  is  in  danger.  He  is  a  hot-tempered 
little  fellow;  when  he  is  at  rest  he  glistens  as  though  he 
were  covered  with  quicksilver,  but  if  you  annoy  him  ever 
so  little  he  becomes  red  with  anger,  then  turns  pale,  then 
purple,  in  the  most  surprising  way.  You  can  see  these 
changes  particularly  well  if  you  place  two  male  stickle- 
backs in  the  same  aquarium.  The  single  combats  in  which 
they  engage  are  Homeric,  and  it  would  require  the  aged 
Poet  himself  to  narrate  all  the  varying  fortunes  and  all 
the  changing  aspects  of  the  combatants,  from  the  dull 
green  of  the  vanquished  to  the  brilliant  purple  of  the 
victor.  The  most  interesting  thing  of  all,  however,  is  the 
way  in  which  the  stickleback  looks  after  the  safety  of  his 
offspring.  Curiously  enough,  it  is  the  male  who  attends  to 
this  matter;  the  mother,  contrary  to  what  we  find  in  the  case 
of  so  many  animals,  troubles  very  little  about  it. 

When  a  male  stickleback  is  tired  of  living  all  alone  and 
thinks  he  would  like  to  have  a  family,  you  may  see  him 
swimming  about  in  every  direction  in  a  restless  manner,  as 
if  he  were  seeking  something.  What  he  is  trying  to  find 
is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  suitable  place  to  build  a 
nest.  When  he  has  discovered  one,  he  fetches  in  his  mouth 
G  ioi 


'WEDDING  FINERY 

bits  of  dead  plants,  scraps  of  leaves  and  shreds  of  algae, 
which  he  brings  back  to  the  chosen  spot  and  lays  down 
carefully,  spreading  them  out  like  a  soft  carpet.  He  places 
the  pieces  so  that  they  cross  one  another  in  all  directions ; 
he  weaves  them,  after  a  fashion,  and  rubs  himself  against 
them  so  that  they  become  stuck  together  by  the  sticky 
fluid  which  oozes  out  of  his  skin,  and  glued  to  the  under- 
lying mud.  But  this  bed,  however  well  it  may  be  made, 
has  a  tendency  to  float  upwards  because  it  is  so  light,  and 
if  that  were  to  happen  all  the  work  would  have  to  be  begun 
over  again.  To  guard  against  such  an  occurrence,  the 
stickleback  fetches  little  stones  and  places  them  on  the 
leafy  carpet,  and  so  prevents  it  from  rising  to  the  surface. 
The  foundation,  however,  is  not  yet  firm  enough ;  a  second 
layer  is  put  on  the  top  of  it,  then  a  third,  and  so  on  until 
the  whole  is  sufficiently  strong.  After  that,  the  stickleback 
pays  no  further  attention  to  the  part  in  the  middle  but 
contents  himself  with  building  round  the  edges;  in  other 
words,  he  makes  a  kind  of  circular  wall,  leaving  the  central 
part  hollow,  like  a  cup.  The  outer  coats  of  the  nest  are 
woven  quite  roughly  and  form  a  mere  tangle,  whereas  the 
interior  is  an  object  of  peculiar  care,  and  is  made  of  the 
softest  algae  and  the  finest  mud.  The  walls  rise  further  and 
further,  not  straight,  but  so  that  they  gradually  meet  at  the 
top,  until  at  last  the  nest  is  finished:  a  hollow  ball  the 
size  of  your  fist,  with  a  nicely  rounded  hole  at  one  side 
which  serves  as  an  entrance,  and  just  opposite  this  another 
opening  which  is  smaller  and  not  so  neatly  shaped. 

The  stickleback,  whose  colouring  was  still  rather  dull  a 
little  while  ago,  is  now  decked  out  in  the  gayest  fashion ; 
his  back  turns  a  beautiful  emerald-green,  his  eyes  sparkle, 
while  a  lovely  red  tint  appears  on  his  cheeks  and  the  under 
side  of  his  body.  Altogether  he  looks  in  excellent  trim 

102 


FIERCE  BATTLES 

after  his  labours.  In  this  natural  finery  he  brings  to  his 
little  house  the  female  stickleback,  who  deposits  her  eggs  in 
the  nest  and  then  swims  away  again.  The  male,  however, 
stays  at  home  and  watches  over  his  offspring  jealously  and 
with  the  greatest  care,  remaining  almost  motionless  except 
for  his  fins,  which  he  waves  to  and  fro  very  rapidly  and  thus 
produces  currents  so  that  the  water  surrounding  the  eggs 
is  continually  changed.  Now  and  then  he  puts  his  head  in 
at  the  window  to  make  sure  that  all  is  well,  and,  being 
satisfied,  comes  out  again  to  keep  watch.  The  new-laid  eggs 
would  furnish  a  royal  feast  for  the  neighbouring  fishes,  and 
the  frail  shelter  is  threatened  by  many  enemies ;  even  the 
female  sticklebacks  are  such  cruel  mothers  that  they  would 
enter  the  nest  if  it  were  left  unguarded  and  devour  the 
whole  "sitting."  But  the  male  fish's  fatherly  instinct  is 
the  source  of  unequalled  daring  and  courage ;  small  as  he 
is,  he  copes  with  all  assailants,  taking  no  rest  and  giving  no 
quarter,  and  after  tremendous  battles  he  usually  ends  by 
putting  his  enemies  to  flight  badly  wounded. 

When  the  eggs  are  hatched  the  rash  youngsters  show  a 
disposition  to  wander  away,  but  their  father  drives  them 
home  again,  and  it  is  only  when  they  are  becoming  strong 
enough  to  take  care  of  themselves  to  some  extent  that  he 
will  permit  them  to  set  out  and  seek  adventures  of  their 
own. 


103 


CHAPTER  VI 
MAKERS   OF  MOUNDS 

ANTS 

Ant-hills—  The  ant's  adaptability—  Rival  builders—  The  roof  of  the  nest 

—  Doorways  —  Life  in   the  open  —  Wood  ants  compared  with  other 
species  —  Closing    the   doors   at  night  —  On   guard  —  Early   morning 
scene  —  Keeping  out  the  rain  —  How  a  nest  is  made  —  How  to  watch 
ants  at  work  —  Formation  of  halls  —  The  living-room  —  Earth  nests  of 
the  mason  ants  —  Methods  of  the  black  ants  —  Home  of  the  brown  ant 

—  Columns,  walls,  and  buttresses  —  Streets  and  crossings  —  Range  of 
nurseries  —  Studying  the  weather  —  Night  work  —  Working  in  the  rain 

—  Laying  out  a  new    story  —  Building  walls  —  Vaulted    chambers  — 
Putting  in  the  ceilings  —  Taking  advantage  of  the  rain  —  A  successful 
ruse  —  Black  ants  —  Marking  out  a  new  story  —  An  industrious  labourer 

—  Road  making  —  An  error  of  judgment  —  Advantages  seized  —  Indepen- 
dent labour  —  Nature's  implements—  Robbers'  caves. 


A^TS,  as  we  know,  form  huge  societies,  and  most  of 
them  build  vast  dwellings  which  we  call  ant-hills  — 
tumuli  or  mounds  remarkable  not  only  for  their  size, 
but  also  for  the  ingenuity  with  which  they  are  planned  and 
the  skill  displayed  in  their  construction. 

Before  describing  one  of  their  habitations  it  is  as  well  to 
make  a  general  statement  of  considerable  interest  concerning 
these  insects,  namely,  that  they  know  how  to  adapt  them- 
selves to  a  considerable  extent  to  the  circumstances  of  the 
moment  and  to  the  surroundings  amidst  which  they  happen 
to  find  themselves.  Their  operations  are  governed  by  no 
hard-and-fast  rules  ;  for  instance,  the  species  which  makes  its 

104 


RIVAL  BUILDERS 

nest  under  a  stone  when  living  on  barren  ground  may  under 
other  conditions  raise  a  dome  of  twigs.  "  The  characteristic 
feature  of  the  art  and  architecture  of  ants,1*  says  Forel, "  is 
the  complete  absence  of  any  unalterable  plan.  They  under- 
stand to  perfection  how  to  modify  their  constructions  accord- 
ing to  circumstances  and  to  seize  upon  every  advantage. 
Moreover,  every  worker  proceeds  with  its  task  independently, 
following  out  a  plan  of  its  own ;  and  sometimes  it  receives 
no  assistance  from  its  companions  until  they  have  understood 
and  adopted  its  scheme.  Naturally,  they  are  often  at  cross 
purposes,  one  destroying  what  another  has  made.  In  this 
we  have  the  key  to  the  construction  of  their  labyrinths.  As 
a  rule,  the  worker  which  hits  upon  the  best  method  and 
shows  the  most  determination  succeeds,  not  without  struggle 
and  competition,  in  getting  its  idea  adopted  by  the  majority 
of  its  companions  and  finally  by  the  whole  colony.  But 
scarcely  has  it  got  its  own  way,  than  another  individual 
comes  forward  and  in  its  turn  forms  a  party,  and  the  first  is 
soon  lost  in  the  crowd." 


NESTS  BUILT  PARTLY  OF  EARTH 

The  nests  of  most  species  of  ant  are  excavated  in  the 
ground,  and  are  surmounted  by  mounds  composed  of  earth 
mixed  with  various  other  materials  and  pierced  with  galleries 
continuous  with  those  in  the  subterranean  portion  of  the 
nest. 

Amongst  the  largest  of  the  ant-hills  found  in  woods  are 
those  made  by  the  red  Wood  Ants  (Formica  rufa\  of  which 
Huber  has  given  the  following  interesting  account : — 

"  The  little  mound  which  seems,  at  the  first  glance,  to  be 
nothing  more  than  a  mass  of  materials  heaped  up  in  confu- 
sion, is  in  reality  an  invention  adapted  in  a  manner  as  in- 

105 


DOORWAYS 

genious  as  simple,  to  carry  off  the  waters  from  the  ant-hill, 
to  protect  it  from  atmospheric  influences  and  from  hostile 
attacks,  and  to  temper  the  sun's  heat  or  retain  its  warmth  in 
the  interior  of  the  nest.  The  heap  of  materials  of  which  it 
is  composed  always  takes  the  shape  of  a  rounded  dome, 
whose  base,  often  covered  with  earth  and  pebbles,  forms  a 
zone  above  which  the  wooden  portion  of  the  building  rises 
like  a  sugar-loaf. 

But  this  is  merely  the  outer  covering  of  the  ant-hill ;  the 
larger  portion  descends  underground  to  a  greater  or  less 
extent  and  is  thus  out  of  sight. 

Funnel-shaped  avenues,  carefully  though  irregularly  con- 
structed, lead  from  the  roof  to  the  inside  of  the  nest,  their 
number  varying  accordingly  to  the  population  and  extent  of 
the  colony.  The  entrance  is  not  always  the  same  width ; 
sometimes  we  find  one  large  opening  at  the  top,  but  usually 
there  are  several  apertures  of  similar  size  around  which 
many  narrower  passages  are  placed  almost  symmetrically, 
disposed  in  circles  right  down  to  the  level  of  the  ground. 

These  doorways  were  necessary  to  give  a  free  passage  to 
the  vast  multitude  of  labourers  of  which  the  colony  is  com- 
posed ;  not  only  do  the  insects  emerge  when  it  is  necessary 
for  them  to  do  so  in  order  to  work  on  the  outside  of  the  nest, 
but  differing  greatly  from  other  species  who  gladly  remain 
inside  where  they  are  sheltered  from  the  sun,  the  red  wood 
ants  prefer  living  in  the  open  air,  and  do  not  hesitate  to 
carry  on  the  greater  part  of  their  operations  in  our  presence. 

If  we  examine  the  dwellings  of  the  yellow  ant,  the  black 
ant,  the  sanguine  ant,  the  brown  ant,  etc.,  we  find  that  the 
openings  are  never  so  wide  as  to  allow  their  enemies  to  gain 
admission  easily,  or  to  permit  the  rain  to  enter.  Their 
habitations  are  covered  with  a  dome  of  earth,  closed  on  all 
sides ;  the  only  outlet  is  near  the  base,  and  even  that  is  ap- 

106 


CLOSING  THE  DOORS   AT  NIGHT 

preached  by  a  long  and  tortuous  passage  that  winds  to  a 
distance  of  several  feet  through  the  grass.  The  smallness  of 
these  doorways,  which  are  always  carefully  guarded  inside, 
prevents  the  entrance  of  any  insects  or  reptiles  that  might 
otherwise  creep  in. 

During  the  day,  when  they  are  collected  in  crowds  upon 
the  dome  of  their  nest,  the  wood  ants  have  no  fear  of  being 
disturbed  inside ;  but  in  the  evening  when  they  have  retired  to 
their  quarters,  and  can  no  longer  perceive  what  is  going  on  out- 
side, how  are  they  protected  from  the  dangers  by  which  they 
are  threatened  ?  And  why  does  not  the  rain  penetrate  into 
a  dwelling  which  has  doorways  on  all  sides  ?  Naturalists  do 
not  appear  to  have  paid  any  attention  to  these  simple  ques- 
tions. Can  it  be  that  they  have  not  foreseen  what  misfortunes 
would  have  happened  to  these  ants  if  the  wisdom  which 
governs  the  universe  had  not  provided  for  their  safety? 
Struck  with  these  reflections  when  I  noticed  the  red  wood 
ants,  I  turned  the  whole  of  my  attention  to  this  subject  and 
was  not  long  left  in  doubt. 

I  noticed  that  the  appearance  of  these  ant-hills  was  con- 
stantly changing,  and  that  those  roomy  approaches  where  so 
many  ants  could  pass  one  another  freely  at  midday  became 
gradually  narrower  towards  night  and  at  last  disappeared 
altogether :  the  dome  was  closed  on  all  sides  and  the  ants 
retired  to  the  bottom  of  their  nest. 

By  observing  the  ants'  doorways  for  the  first  time,  I  got 
a  much  clearer  idea  concerning  the  work  of  the  inhabitants : 
until  then  I  had  not  been  able  to  understand  exactly  what 
object  they  had  in  view,  for  the  surface  of  the  nest  presented 
such  a  busy  scene,  and  so  many  insects  were  occupied  in 
carrying  materials  in  all  directions,  that  the  only  impression 
I  had  received  was  one  of  confusion. 

I  then  saw  clearly  that  they  were  engaged  in  stopping  up 

107 


EARLY  MORNING  SCENE 

their  passages,  for  which  purpose  they  first  brought  up  little 
pieces  of  wood  to  the  neighbourhood  of  the  galleries  they 
wished  to  close,  and  then  placed  them  above  the  aperture  or 
even,  in  some  cases,  sank  them  into  the  thatch.  After  that 
they  went  for  more  fragments  and  laid  them  across  the  top 
of  the  first,  and  they  appeared  to  choose  smaller  pieces  as  the 
work  approached  completion.  At  length  they  brought  in  a 
number  of  dried  leaves  and  other  larger  materials,  with 
which  they  covered  the  roof.  Is  not  this,  on  a  small  scale, 
the  art  of  our  builders  when  they  form  the  covering  of  any 
building  ?  Nature  seems  everywhere  to  have  anticipated  the 
inventions  of  which  we  boast,  and  this  is  doubtless  one  of  the 
most  simple. 

Our  little  insects,  now  in  safety  in  their  nest,  retire 
gradually  to  the  interior  before  the  last  passages  are  closed, 
and  one  or  two  only  remain  outside  or  concealed  behind  the 
doors  to  keep  guard,  while  the  others  either  rest  or  engage  in 
various  occupations  in  the  most  perfect  security. 

I  was  impatient  to  know  what  took  place  in  the  morning 
upon  these  ant-hills,  so  I  visited  them  at  an  early  hour. 
I  found  them  in  the  same  state  in  which  I  had  left  them 
overnight.  A  few  ants  were  wandering  about  the  surface 
of  the  nest ;  others  issued  from  time  to  time  from  under  the 
margin  of  the  little  roofs  found  at  the  entrance  of  galleries ; 
and  I  soon  saw  others  appear  and  begin  to  remove  the 
wooden  bars  that  barricaded  the  entrance,  which  they  readily 
succeeded  in  doing.  This  labour  occupied  them  for  several 
hours.  At  length  the  passages  were  free,  and  the  materials 
with  which  they  had  been  closed  were  scattered  here  and  there 
over  the  ant-hill. 

Every  day  during  the  fine  weather  I  was  a  witness  to 
similar  proceedings  both  morning  and  evening. 

On  rainy  days,  however,  the  doors  of  all  the  ant-hills 

108 


FORMATION  OF  HALLS 

remain  closed.  When  the  sky  is  cloudy  in  the  morning  and 
it  seems  likely  to  rain,  the  ants,  who  are  apparently  aware  of 
it,  only  partly  open  their  doorways  and  hasten  to  close  them 
again  when  the  rain  commences.  It  would  appear  from  this 
that  they  are  quite  conscious  of  the  reason  for  which  they 
form  these  temporary  closures. 

To  have  an  idea  how  the  straw  or  stubble  roof  is  formed, 
let  us  take  a  view  of  the  ant-hill  from  the  beginning,  when 
it  is  simply  a  hollow  in  the  ground.  Some  of  its  future 
inhabitants  are  seen  wandering  about  in  search  of  materials 
fit  for  the  outside  work,  with  which  they  at  once  make  a 
rough  but  sufficient  covering  for  the  entrance ;  whilst  others 
are  busy  mixing  the  earth  which  has  been  thrown  up  in 
hollowing  the  interior  with  fragments  of  wood  and  leaves 
which  are  continually  being  brought  to  them.  This  gives  a 
certain  solidity  to  the  edifice,  which  increases  in  size  daily. 

Here  and  there  our  little  architects  leave  cavities  where 
they  intend  to  construct  galleries  leading  to  the  exterior,  and 
as  every  morning  they  remove  the  barricades  of  the  night 
before,  the  passages  are  preserved  during  the  whole  time  the 
nest  is  being  made.  We  soon  observe  that  it  becomes  con- 
vex ;  but  we  should  be  greatly  mistaken  if  we  considered  it 
solid.  This  roof  is  intended  to  include  many  apartments  or 
stories. 

I  observed  the  motions  of  these  little  masons  through 
a  pane  of  glass  which  I  fixed  up  against  one  of  their  dwell- 
ings, so  I  can  speak  with  some  degree  of  certainty  about  the 
way  in  which  they  are  built. 

It  is  by  excavating  or  mining  the  under  portion  of  their 
edifice  that  they  form  their  spacious  halls,  which  are  low  and 
of  heavy  construction,  but  convenient  enough  for  the  use 
for  which  they  are  intended,  that  is  to  say,  for  receiving  at 
certain  hours  of  the  day  the  larvae  and  pupae. 

109 


i; 
EARTH  NESTS   OF  THE  MASON  ANTS 

These  halls  have  free  communication  with  each  other  by 
galleries  made  in  the  same  manner.  If  the  materials  of  the 
ant-hill  were  merely  interlaced,  they  would  give  way  too 
easily  and  fall  into  confusion  every  time  the  ants  attempted 
to  put  them  right  again.  This,  however,  is  avoided  by  their 
tempering  the  earth  with  rain-water,  so  that  it  afterwards 
hardens  in  the  sun  and  completely  and  effectually  binds  to- 
gether the  various  substances ;  fragments  can  then  be  removed 
without  injury  to  the  rest.  Besides,  it  keeps  out  the  rain, 
and  even  in  the  wettest  weather  I  never  found  the  interior 
of  a  nest  soaked  to  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  inch  from  the 
surface,  provided  that  it  had  previously  been  in  good  repair 
and  not  deserted  by  the  inhabitants. 

The  ants  are  extremely  well-sheltered  in  their  chambers, 
the  largest  of  which  is  near  the  centre  of  the  buildings. 
This  apartment  is  much  loftier  than  the  rest,  and  crossed 
only  by  the  beams  that  support  the  ceiling;  in  it  all  the 
galleries  terminate,  and  it  forms  a  common  living-room  for 
most  of  the  inhabitants. 

As  to  the  underground  portion,  it  can  only  be  seen  when 
the  ant-hill  is  placed  on  a  slope ;  the  whole  of  the  interior 
may  then  be  brought  into  view  by  simply  raising  up  the 
straw  roof.  The  subterranean  residence  consists  of  a  range 
of  apartments  excavated  horizontally  in  the  earth." 

NESTS  BUILT  ENTIRELY  OF  EARTH 

Several  ants  build  their  nests  entirely  of  earth,  and 
deserve  to  some  extent  the  name  of  Mason  Ants  given  to 
them  by  Huber. 

"There  are,'"  he  says,  "several  species  of  mason  ants. 
The  earth  of  which  their  nests  are  composed  is  more  or  less 
compact.  That  employed  by  ants  of  a  certain  size,  such  as 

no 


AN  ANT-HILL  BY  DAY 

The  red  wood-ants  cover  their  dwelling  with  a  thatch  of  leaves  and  straw  or  pine-needles,  to  keep  their 
an  thefthe  roof  is'crowded  with 

ithin  the  nest  and  "shut  up 


h  K  . 

house     hvrlo  n  or  when  it  begins  to  ram  the  ants  retire 

house     by  closing  all  the  entrances  with  bits  of  stick  and  leaves. 


HOME   OF  THE  BROWN  ANT 

the  black  and  mining  ants,  appears  to  be  less  carefully 
chosen  and  forms  a  paste  less  fine  than  that  of  which  the 
brown,  microscopic,  and  yellow  ants  form  their  abode.  It  is, 
however,  adapted  to  their  capacities,  to  their  needs,  and  to 
the  nature  of  the  edifice  they  intend  to  build. 

To  form  a  correct  judgment  of  the  interior  arrangement 
of  an  ant-hill,  it  is  necessary  to  select  such  as  have  not  been 
accidentally  spoiled,  and  the  shape  of  which  has  not  been 
altered  by  local  circumstances ;  a  little  attention  will  then 
be  enough  to  show  that  the  homes  of  different  species  are 
not  constructed  after  the  same  system. 

Thus  the  hillock  raised  by  the  black  ants  always  has 
thick  walls  formed  of  coarse,  lumpy  earth,  well-marked 
stories,  and  large  chambers  with  vaulted  ceilings  resting 
upon  solid  pillars ;  we  never  find  roads  or  galleries  properly 
so  called,  but  large  passages  of  an  oval  form,  and  all  around 
them  large  cavities  and  extensive  embankments  of  earth.  We 
further  notice  that  the  little  architects  have  preserved  a 
certain  proportion  between  the  widely  arched  ceilings  and 
the  pillars  which  are  to  support  them. 

The  brown  ant,  which  is  one  of  the  smallest,  is  particularly 
remarkable  for  the  extreme  finish  of  its  work.  Its  body  is 
of  a  shining  reddish  brown,  its  head  a  little  deeper  and  the 
antennae  and  feet  a  little  lighter  in  colour.  The  abdomen 
is  dark  brown,  the  scale  narrow,  squared,  and  slightly 
scalloped.  The  body  is  an  eighth  of  an  inch  in  length. 

This  ant,  one  of  the  most  industrious  of  its  tribe,  forms 
its  nest  in  stories  rather  less  than  half  an  inch  in  height.  The 
partitions  are  not  more  than  one  twenty-fifth  of  an  inch  in 
thickness,  and  the  substance  of  which  they  are  composed 
is  so  finely  grained  that  the  surface  of  the  inner  walls 
appears  quite  smooth  and  unbroken.  These  stories  are  not 
horizontal;  they  follow  the  slope  of  the  ant-hill,  so  that 

in 


RANGE   OF  NURSERIES 

each  curves  over  all  those  which  lie  below  it,  down  to  the 
ground  floor,  which  communicates  with  the  subterranean 
lodges.  They  are  not  always,  however,  arranged  with  the 
same  regularity,  for  ants  do  not  follow  an  invariable  plan  ;  it 
appears,  on  the  contrary,  that  nature  has  allowed  them  a 
certain  amount  of  freedom  in  this  matter,  and  that  they  can 
vary  their  method  at  will  according  to  circumstances.  But 
however  fantastical  their  habitations  may  appear,  we  always 
observe  that  they  have  been  built  in  concentric  stories. 

On  examining  each  story  separately,  we  see  a  number  of 
carefully  formed  cavities  or  halls,  lodges  of  narrower  dimen- 
sions, and  long  galleries  which  serve  for  general  communica- 
tion. The  arched  ceilings  covering  the  most  spacious  places 
are  supported  either  by  little  columns,  slender  walls,  or 
regular  buttresses.  We  further  notice  chambers  that  have 
but  one  entrance,  communicating  with  the  lower  story,  and 
large  open  spaces  serving  as  a  kind  of  crossing  or  junction  in 
which  all  streets  terminate. 

Such  is  the  general  plan  on  which  the  habitations  of  these 
ants  are  constructed.  Upon  opening  them  we  discover  the 
apartments,  as  well  as  the  large  open  spaces,  filled  with 
adult  ants;  but  we  always  find  their  pupae  collected  in 
chambers  which  are  nearer  to  or  further  away  from  the 
surface  according  to  the  time  of  the  day  and  to  the  tempera- 
ture ;  in  this  respect  ants  are  endowed  with  great  sensibility 
and  appear  to  know  what  degree  of  heat  is  best  suited  to 
their  young. 

The  ant-hill  contains  sometimes  more  than  twenty  stories 
in  its  upper  portion,  and  at  least  as  many  under  the  surface 
of  the  ground,  an  arrangement  which  must  enable  the  ants 
to  regulate  the  heat  to  a  nicety  and  with  the  greatest  ease. 
When  a  too-burning  sun  makes  the  upper  apartments  over- 
warm,  the  insects  withdraw  with  their  little  ones  to  the 

112 


STUDYING  THE   WEATHER 

bottom  of  the  ant-hill.  The  ground  floor  becoming,  in  its 
turn,  uninhabitable  during  the  rainy  season,  the  ants  of 
this  species  transport  what  most  interests  them  to  the  higher 
stories,  and  it  is  there  that  we  usually  find  them  assembled 
with  their  pupae  and  eggs  when  their  apartments  under- 
ground are  flooded. 

Having  ascertained  the  internal  arrangement  of  their 
habitations,  it  still  remained  to  discover  how  ants,  making 
use  of  such  a  harsh  material,  could  trace  out  and  complete 
works  so  extremely  delicate  with  the  assistance  only  of  their 
teeth ;  how  they  could  soften  the  earth  for  the  purpose  of 
mining,  kneading,  and  building  with  it ;  and  what  cement 
they  employed  to  make  the  particles  adhere  to  one  another. 
Did  it  depend  upon  a  sort  of  mucilage  or  resin,  or  some 
other  liquid  furnished  by  the  ants  themselves,  resembling 
that  which  the  mason  bee  employs  in  building  the  nest  to 
which  it  gives  so  much  solidity  ?  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  have 
analysed  the  earth  of  which  the  ant-hills  are  composed, 
but  I  hesitated  to  engage  in  a  difficult  task  which  hardly 
came  within  my  province.  I  therefore  kept  to  the  slow  but 
sure  method  of  observation,  by  which  I  hoped  to  obtain  the 
same  result. 

I  hastened,  then,  to  observe  one  of  these  ant-hills  until 
I  should  perceive  some  change  in  its  form. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  nest  I  had  selected  stayed  at  home 
during  the  day,  or  only  went  out  by  the  subterranean 
galleries  which  led  into  the  meadows  several  feet  away. 
Though  there  were  two  or  three  small  openings  on  the 
surface  of  the  nest,  I  saw  none  of  the  labourers  pass  out 
that  way,  because  it  was  too  much  exposed  to  the  sun, 
which  the  insects  greatly  dread.  This  ant-hill  was  round 
in  shape ;  it  rose  in  the  grass  at  the  border  of  a  path  and 
was  uninjured. 

"3 


LAYING  OUT  A  NEW   STORY 

I  soon  perceived  that  the  freshness  of  the  air  and  the  dew 
invited  the  ants  to  walk  over  the  surface  of  the  nest,  where 
they  began  making  new  openings.  Several  ants  might  be 
seen  arriving  at  the  same  time,  thrusting  their  heads  from 
the  entrance,  moving  their  antennae,  and  at  last  venturing 
out  to  wander  about  in  the  vicinity. 

This  reminded  me  of  a  curious  opinion  of  the  Ancients, 
who  believed  that  ants  laboured  during  the  night  when  the 
moon  was  at  its  full.  Perhaps  this  belief  was  not  entirely 
without  foundation,  for  although  it  is  certain  that  the  moon 
had  no  kind  of  influence  on  their  conduct,  I  perceived  that 
there  was  a  certain  amount  of  truth  in  the  observation. 

Having  noticed  the  movements  of  these  insects  during  the 
night,  I  found  that  they  were  almost  always  abroad  and  busy 
about  the  dome  of  their  dwelling  after  sunset.  This  was  ex- 
actly the  reverse  of  what  I  had  observed  in  the  conduct  of  the 
wood  ants,  who  go  out  only  in  the  daytime,  and  when  evening 
comes  close  their  doors.  The  contrast  was  still  more  remark- 
able than  I  had  previously  supposed,  for  upon  visiting  the 
brown  ants  some  days  later  during  a  gentle  rain  I  saw  them 
make  full  use  of  their  architectural  skill 

As  soon  as  it  began  to  rain  they  left  their  subterranean 
residence  in  great  numbers,  re-entered  it  almost  immediately, 
and  then  returned  bearing  in  their  jaws  pellets  of  earth 
which  they  deposited  on  the  roof  of  their  nest.  At  first 
I  could  not  imagine  what  this  was  intended  for,  but  I  soon 
saw  little  walls  start  up  on  all  sides  with  spaces  left  between 
them,  while  in  several  places  columns  ranged  at  regular 
distances  announced  halls,  lodges,  and  passages  which  the 
ants  proposed  to  construct;  it  was,  in  short,  the  laying 
out  of  a  new  story. 

I  watched  the  most  trifling  movements  of  my  masons  with 
great  interest,  and  I  soon  found  that  they  did  not  work  in 

114 


VAULTED  CHAMBERS 

the  same  way  as  wasps  and  humble  bees  when  occupied  in 
constructing  a  covering  to  their  nest.  The  latter  sit  astride, 
as  it  were,  upon  the  border  or  margin  of  the  covering  and 
take  it  between  their  teeth  to  shape  and  thin  it  as  they 
wish.  The  wax  of  which  it  is  composed,  and  the  "  paper " 
which  the  wasps  employ,  moistened  with  a  sort  of  glue,  lend 
themselves  to  this  kind  of  work ;  but  the  earth  of  which  the 
ants  make  use  has  often  but  little  tenacity,  and  must  be 
wrought  in  a  different  manner. 

Each  ant,  then,  carried  between  its  jaws  the  pellet  of  earth 
it  had  formed  by  scraping  the  bottom  of  its  dwelling  with 
the  end  of  its  mandibles.  This  little  mass  of  earth  being 
made  of  particles  only  just  collected  together  could  readily 
be  moulded  just  as  the  ants  wished,  and  when  they  had  put 
it  into  the  position  it  was  intended  for,  they  divided  it  and 
pressed  upon  it  with  their  jaws  so  as  to  fill  up  the  smallest 
crannies  of  their  wall.  Their  antennae  followed  every  move- 
ment, touching  each  pellet  of  earth;  and  as  soon  as  a 
particle  had  been  placed  in  position,  the  whole  mass  was  made 
more  compact  by  being  lightly  pressed  by  the  fore  feet. 
This  work  went  on  very  quickly. 

After  tracing  out  the  plan  of  their  masonry  by  laying 
here  and  there  foundations  for  the  pillars  and  the  partitions 
they  wished  to  erect,  the  insects  raised  them  higher  by  add- 
ing fresh  materials.  It  often  happened  that  two  little  walls, 
which  were  to  form  a  gallery,  were  raised  opposite  one 
another,  a  little  distance  apart.  When  they  had  reached 
a  height  of  rather  less  than  half  an  inch,  the  ants  busied 
themselves  in  covering  in  the  space  left  between  them  by  a 
vaulted  ceiling. 

After  a  while  they  ceased  to  work  upwards,  as  if  they 
considered  the  walls  high  enough;  they  then  placed  particles 
of  moistened  earth  against  the  interior  and  upper  part  of 

"5 


PUTTING   IN   THE  CEILINGS 

each  wall  almost  at  right  angles  to  it,  thus  forming  a  ledge 
which  would,  as  it  extended,  join  that  coming  from  the 
opposite  side.  These  ledges  were  about  one  twenty-fifth  of 
an  inch  in  thickness,  and  the  breadth  of  the  galleries  was 
usually  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch. 

In  one  part  several  upright  partitions  formed  the  scaffold- 
ing of  a  lodge  which  communicated  with  a  number  of 
corridors  by  openings  in  the  masonry,  in  another  place  there 
was  a  regularly  formed  hall  with  numerous  pillars  sustaining 
its  vaulted  ceiling.  Further  on  it  was  possible  to  recognize 
the  plan  of  one  of  those  squares  of  which  we  have  spoken 
before,  in  which  several  avenues  terminate,  and  these  were 
the  most  spacious  parts  of  the  ant-hill ;  yet  the  work  of 
constructing  a  ceiling  to  cover  them  in  did  not  appear  to 
cause  the  labourers  any  embarrassment,  even  though  the 
spaces  were  often  two  inches  or  more  in  breadth.  The  first 
foundations  of  such  a  ceiling  were  laid  in  the  angles  formed 
by  the  upper  part  of  the  different  walls,  and  from  the  top  of 
each  pillar,  as  from  so  many  centres,  a  horizontal  and  slightly 
convex  layer  of  earth  was  carried  forward  to  meet  the  several 
portions  coming  from  different  points  of  the  large  public 
thoroughfare. 

The  busy  crowd  of  masons  arriving  from  all  parts  with 
the  load  of  concrete  they  wish  to  add  to  the  building,  the 
order  they  observe  in  their  operations,  the  prevailing  har- 
mony, and  the  eagerness  with  which  they  avail  themselves  of 
the  rain  to  increase  the  height  of  their  dwelling,  present 
a  most  interesting  spectacle  to  one  who  is  a  lover  of  nature. 

I  was  sometimes  afraid  that  the  building  was  not  strong 
enough  to  support  its  own  weight,  and  that  the  wide  ceilings, 
sustained  only  by  a  few  pillars,  would  fall  into  ruin  from  the 
rain  continually  dropping  upon  them;  but  I  was  reassured 
when  I  saw  that  the  earth  which  the  insects  brought  stuck 

116 


TAKING  ADVANTAGE  OF  THE  RAIN 

together  everywhere  on  the  slightest  contact,  and  that  the 
rain,  far  from  lessening  its  cohesiveness,  appeared  to  add  to 
it,  thus  making  the  building  still  more  secure  instead  of 
causing  any  damage. 

The  parcels  of  moistened  earth,  which  are  only  held 
together  by  contact,  seem  to  require  a  fall  of  rain  to  cement 
them  more  closely  and  to  varnish  over,  as  it  were,  the  ceil- 
ings they  compose  and  the  walls  and  galleries  which  are  not 
yet  covered  in.  Then  all  unevenness  of  the  masonry  is 
removed,  and  the  upper  part  of  the  stories,  composed  of  so 
many  separate  parts  brought  together,  presents  a  united 
layer  of  compact  earth  which  requires  nothing  but  the  heat 
of  the  sun  to  make  it  perfectly  solid. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  a  too  violent  storm 
will  leave  the  apartments  uninjured,  especially  when  the 
ceilings  are  almost  flat ;  but  under  these  trying  circumstances 
the  ants  quickly  restore  them  with  wonderful  patience. 

These  different  labours  were  carried  on  at  the  same  time 
all  over  the  ant-hill  we  have  been  describing,  and  they 
succeeded  one  another  so  rapidly  in  the  various  quarters  that 
a  complete  story  was  added  in  the  course  of  seven  or  eight 
hours.  As  all  the  vaulted  ceilings  stretching  from  wall  to 
wall  were  at  one  level,  they  eventually  joined  edge  to  edge 
and  formed  when  finished  but  a  single  roof.  Scarcely  had 
the  ants  completed  this  story  when  they  began  constructing 
another,  but  they  had  not  time  to  finish  it,  as  the  rain  ceased 
before  it  was  completely  roofed  in.  They  took  advantage  of 
the  dampness  of  the  earth,  however,  and  went  on  working  for 
a  few  hours  longer ;  but  a  keen  north  wind  sprung  up  and 
dried  the  collected  fragments  so  quickly  that  they  lost  their 
adhesiveness  and  fell  into  powder.  Finding  their  efforts 
were  ineffectual,  the  ants  at  last  became  discouraged  and  left 
off  building ;  and  to  my  astonishment  they  then  destroyed 

H  117 


A  SUCCESSFUL  RUSE 

all  the  apartments  and  walls  that  were  still  uncovered, 
and  scattered  the  debris  over  the  last  story  of  the  ant- 
hill. 

These  facts  prove  beyond  doubt  that  the  ants  use  neither 
gum,  nor  any  other  kind  of  cement,  to  bind  together  the 
materials  of  their  nest,  but  knowingly  take  advantage  of 
the  rain  to  work  and  knead  the  earth,  leaving  the  sun  and 
wind  to  consolidate  it.  In  the  simplicity  of  these  means 
I  recognized  Nature's  own  methods,  but  I  thought  I  ought  to 
verify  my  results  by  experiment. 

A  few  days  later  I  attempted  to  excite  the  ants  to  begin 
work  again  by  an  artificial  shower.  With  this  object  I  took 
a  stiff  brush  and  after  dipping  it  in  water  I  drew  my  hand 
backwards  and  forwards  over  the  bristles,  causing  a  fine 
spray  to  fall  upon  the  ant-hill.  The  insects  within  per- 
ceived the  dampness  of  their  roof  and  came  out,  running 
quickly  over  the  surface.  The  sprinkling  was  continued; 
the  masons  were  deceived;  they  went  to  the  bottom  of 
the  nest  for  little  masses  of  earth,  which  they  brought  up 
and  laid  on  the  roof,  and  they  built  walls  and  cham- 
bers— a  complete  story,  in  short — in  the  course  of  a  few 
hours. 

I  frequently  repeated  this  experiment  and  always  with 
the  same  success.  It  is  in  the  spring  more  especially  that 
the  mason  ants  take  advantage  of  the  rain  to  enlarge  their 
nest ;  they  even  work  by  night,  and  I  have  often  noticed  in 
the  morning  stories  that  had  been  completely  constructed 
between  sunset  and  sunrise. 

The  ants  are  not  content  with  adding  to  the  height  of 
their  dwelling;  they  also  hollow  out  underground  apart- 
ments which  are  still  more  spacious  than  those  above,  and 
the  materials  which  they  excavate  are  used  as  we  have  said, 
for  the  outer  works.  The  art  of  these  insects  therefore  con- 

118 


BLACK  ANTS 

sists  in  their  knowing  how  to  carry  on  two  contrary  opera- 
tions, mining  and  building,  at  the  same  time,  and  how  to 
make  the  one  subservient  to  the  other. 

What  is  still  more  singular,  they  display  the  same  genius 
in  excavating  as  in  building  above-ground.  The  moisture 
which  penetrates  to  the  bottom  of  their  nest  is  doubtless  of 
great  assistance  to  them  in  their  labour. 

The  black  ants,  Formica  fusca,  build  in  a  manner  very 
different  from  the  brown  ants.  We  have  already  seen  from  the 
description  of  their  dwelling  that  it  is  exceedingly  simple 
and  heavy  in  its  construction  as  compared  with  the  latter, 
but  its  simplicity  was  favourable  to  the  object  I  had  in  view 
of  examining,  if  possible,  how  many  ants  could  work  together 
intelligently  on  the  same  design,  and  of  discovering  whether 
they  acted  independently,  or  helped  one  another;  of  their 
own  accord,  or  from  some  general  impulse. 

I  do  not  flatter  myself  that  I  have  solved  these  important 
questions,  but  the  facts  I  am  about  to  describe  will  at  all 
events  throw  some  light  on  the  subject. 

When  the  black  ants  wish  to  add  to  the  height  of  their 
dwelling,  they  begin  by  placing  over  the  roof  a  thick  layer 
of  earth,  which  they  bring  from  the  interior,  and  in  this 
they  trace  the  plan  of  a  new  story  in  low  relief. 

They  first  hollow  out  here  and  there,  more  or  less  close  to 
each  other,  little  dykes  of  a  breadth  proportioned  to  the  use 
for  which  they  are  intended,  and  all  of  very  nearly  the  same 
depth;  the  masses  of  earth  left  between  them  afterwards 
serve  for  the  foundation  of  the  inner  walls,  so  that  when  the 
useless  earth  has  been  removed  from  the  bottom  of  each 
chamber  and  the  foundation  of  the  walls  reduced  to  a 
proper  thickness,  all  the  architects  have  to  do  is  to  increase 
the  height  of  the  building  and  build  a  roof  over  the  apart- 
ments. 

119 


AN   INDUSTRIOUS   LABOURER 

After  observing  the  manner  in  which  these  ant-hills  were 
constructed  I  felt  that  the  only  way  of  thoroughly  under- 
standing the  secret  of  their  organization  was  to  watch  care- 
fully the  behaviour  of  individual  labourers.  My  notebooks 
are  filled  with  observations  of  this  kind,  and  I  will  quote  a 
few  of  the  more  interesting.  I  will  describe,  then,  the 
operations  of  a  single  ant  whose  movements  I  followed  until 
my  curiosity  was  satisfied. 

One  rainy  day  I  noticed  a  labourer  digging  the  ground 
near  the  entrance  to  an  ant-hill.  It  placed  in  a  heap  the 
fragments  it  had  scraped  up  and  made  them  into  little 
pellets,  which  it  deposited  here  and  there  over  the  nest. 
Time  after  time  it  returned  to  the  same  place,  apparently 
with  some  definite  object  in  view,  judging  from  the  eager- 
ness and  perseverance  with  which  it  worked.  First  I  re- 
marked a  slight  furrow  excavated  in  a  straight  line,  which 
apparently  represented  the  beginning  of  a  road  or  gallery. 
I  watched  every  movement.  The  labourer  next  made  the 
furrow  wider  and  deeper,  clearing  out  its  borders ;  and  after 
a  while  I  was  satisfied  that  it  intended  opening  up  a  road 
leading  from  one  of  the  stories  to  the  chambers  under- 
ground. The  path,  about  two  or  three  inches  in  length, 
and  formed  by  a  single  ant,  was  open  above  and  bordered 
on  each  side  by  an  embankment  of  earth ;  the  gutter-like 
hollow  of  it  was  quite  smooth,  for  the  architect  had  removed 
every  superfluous  particle  of  earth.  I  followed  and  under- 
stood so  well  what  this  ant  was  doing,  that  I  could  nearly 
always  guess  what  its  next  proceeding  would  be  and  which 
fragment  it  was  about  to  remove. 

Beside  the  opening  where  the  path  ended  there  was  a 
second  to  which  a  road  had  to  be  made.  The  same  ant 
carried  out  this  undertaking  also,  and  without  any  assistance 
made  another  furrow  and  opened  a  second  path  parallel  to 

120 


AN  ERROR  OF  JUDGMENT 

the  first,  leaving  between  the  two  a  little  wall  about  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  in  height. 

When  ants  trace  out  the  plan  of  a  wall,  chamber,  or 
gallery  in  this  independent  manner,  it  sometimes  happens 
that  the  various  parts  of  the  work  do  not  fit  in  with  one 
another.  This  is  by  no  means  an  infrequent  occurrence, 
but  the  ants  are  not  embarrassed  by  it,  and  I  will  now  tell 
you  of  an  instance  in  which  the  workman  found  out  his 
mistake  and  knew  how  to  rectify  it. 

A  wall  had  been  raised  with  the  apparent  object  of  sup- 
porting a  vaulted  ceiling,  still  unfinished,  which  stretched 
from  the  opposite  side  of  a  large  chamber.  The  workman 
who  had  begun  this  had  made  it  not  quite  high  enough  to 
meet  the  wall  on  which  it  was  to  rest,  and  if  it  had  been 
continued  on  the  original  plan  it  must  have  met  the  wall 
about  half-way  up — a  thing  to  be  avoided.  I  was  very 
much  interested  in  this  circumstance,  when  one  of  the  ants 
arrived  and  after  visiting  the  works  appeared  to  be  struck 
with  the  same  difficulty,  for  it  at  once  began  taking  down 
the  ceiling  and  raising  the  wall  on  which  it  had  rested. 
Then,  as  I  looked  on,  it  constructed  a  new  ceiling  out  of  the 
fragments  of  the  old  one. 

When  the  ants  begin  an  undertaking,  one  would  suppose 
that  they  were  working  on  a  plan  thought  out  beforehand 
and  then  carried  out.  Thus  when  an  ant  discovers  two 
stems  of  grass  upon  the  nest,  lying  crossways,  in  a  position 
which  favours  the  construction  of  a  lodge,  or  some  little 
beams  which  suggest  its  sides  and  corners,  it  examines  the 
various  parts  and  then  sets  out  in  a  very  workmanlike 
fashion  to  fill  in  the  spaces  along  the  stems  with  tiny  parcels 
of  earth,  taking  suitable  materials  from  all  quarters,  and 
sometimes  not  hesitating  to  destroy  for  this  purpose  the 
work  begun  by  others,  to  such  an  extent  is  it  dominated  by 

121 


NATURE'S   IMPLEMENTS 

one  idea  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else.  It  goes  to  and  fro 
about  its  work  until  other  ants  realize  the  plan  of  it. 

In  another  part  of  the  same  ant-hill  there  were  several 
pieces  of  straw  which  appeared  to  have  been  placed  there 
expressly  to  form  the  roof  of  a  large  chamber ;  a  workman 
took  advantage  of  the  way  they  were  disposed,  which  was  in 
the  form  of  an  oblong  lying  horizontally  half  an  inch  from 
the  ground.  The  industrious  insect  began  placing  earth  in 
the  angles  of  this  framework  and  along  the  little  beams  of 
which  it  was  composed,  afterwards  adding  row  after  row  of 
the  same  material  until  a  distinct  roof  appeared.  Perceiv- 
ing then  that  it  could  take  advantage  of  another  plant  to 
support  a  vertical  wall,  it  began  laying  the  foundation  of 
one.  By  this  time  other  ants  had  come  upon  the  scene,  and 
they  helped  in  the  completion  of  the  work. 

From  these  observations  and  a  thousand  others  of  the 
same  kind,  I  am  convinced  that  each  ant  acts  independently 
of  its  companions.  As  soon  as  one  hits  upon  a  plan  easy  to 
carry  out,  it  makes  a  sketch  of  it,  and  then  the  others  only 
continue  what  the  first  has  begun,  judging  what  they  should 
do  from  an  inspection  of  that  part  of  the  work  which  has 
already  been  carried  out.  They  all  know  how  to  make  a 
beginning,  how  to  carry  on  the  work,  how  to  retouch  and 
give  a  finish  to  it  as  occasion  requires.  Water  furnishes 
them  with  the  necessary  cement,  and  the  sun  and  air  harden 
the  material  of  their  dwellings.  They  have  no  other  chisel 
than  their  jaws,  no  other  compass  than  their  antennae, 
and  no  other  trowel  than  the  fore  feet  which  they  use  in 
such  an  admirable  manner  to  lay  down  and  make  firm  the 
moistened  earth. 

These,  then,  are  the  material  and  mechanical  means  which 
ants  employ  in  their  building.  If,  as  might  have  been  the 
case,  they  had  simply  obeyed  a  mechanical  instinct,  they 

122 


ROBBERS'  CAVES 

might  have  carried  out  with  precision  an  unvarying  geo- 
metrical plan,  constructing  walls  of  equal  length  and 
breadth,  and  vaulted  ceilings  curved  always  in  the  same 
manner,  thus  following  blindly  an  impulse  to  build  ;  then  we 
should  have  been  but  moderately  surprised  at  their  industry. 
But  to  form  these  irregular  domes  composed  of  so  many 
stories ;  to  distribute  the  apartments  they  contain  in  a  con- 
venient yet  varied  manner ;  to  take  advantage  of  the  weather 
most  favourable  to  their  labours ,  to  vary  them  (above  all) 
according  to  circumstances  and  to  profit  by  the  happy  acci- 
dents of  the  building  site  ;  to  form  a  judgment  of  the 
advantage  of  such  and  such  operations — to  do  all  these 
things,  must  they  not  be  endowed  with  faculties  very  near  to 
intelligence,  and  enabled  by  Nature  to  be  not  mere  auto- 
matons but  creatures  capable  of  perceiving  the  intention  of 
the  work  which  it  is  their  business  in  life  to  carry  on  ?  " 

As  a  rule  each  species  of  ant  lives  by  itself ;  but  there  are 
a  few  interesting  cases  in  which  ants  of  a  smaller  species  are 
found  in  the  nests  of  their  larger  brethren,  where  they  make 
themselves  thoroughly  at  home.  Sometimes  they  live  to- 
gether on  friendly  terms,  but  not  always  so.  The  tiny  ants 
called  Solanopsis,  for  instance,  hollow  out  tunnels  in  the 
walls  of  dwellings  constructed  by  larger  species  and  there  lead 
the  lives  of  robbers,  making  raids  on  the  home  of  their  hosts 
and  carrying  off  booty  into  their  caves,  which  are  so  narrow 
that  the  victims  cannot  pursue  the  little  brigands. 


CHAPTER  VII 
MAKERS   OF  MOUNDS 

BIRDS 

Flamingoes— Hillock  nests— A  quaint  narrative— Stalking  flamingoes— 
An  old  story  disproved — An  albatros  "rookery" — Albatros-nesting 
— The  mallee-bird — Preparing  the  incubator — An  immense  mound — 
Burying  the  eggs — The  Australian  mound-bird— Nests  upon  which 
trees  sometimes  grow— A  nest  of  iron-stone — Digging  for  eggs. 

THE  Flamingo  (Phcenicopterus),  that  strange-looking 
bird  which  has  on  rare  occasions  been  reported  as  a 
visitor  to  British  shores,  but  whose  home  is  in  the 
extreme  south  of  Europe  and  other  countries  where   the 
climate  is  warmer  than  ours,  erects  a  mound  of  earth  with  a 
cavity  at  the  top  for  the  reception  of  its  eggs. 

The  earliest  definite  account  of  these  remarkable  structures 
which  has  been  handed  down  to  us  appears  to  be  that  given 
by  Dampier  of  his  own  observations  near  Querisao  (i.e. 
Curacao)  as  long  ago  as  1683,  and  is  well  worth  quoting  for 
its  quaintness.  He  tells  us  that  the  flamingoes  "  build  their 
Nests  in  shallow  Ponds,  where  there  is  much  Mud,  which 
they  scrape  together,  making  little  Hillocks,  like  small 
Islands,  appearing  out  of  the  Water,  a  foot  and  a  half  high 
from  the  bottom.  They  make  the  foundation  of  these 
Hillocks  broad,  bringing  them  up  tapering  to  the  top,  where 
they  leave  a  small  hollow  pit  to  lay  their  Eggs  in ;  and  when 
they  either  lay  their  Eggs,  or  hatch  them,  they  stand  all  the 

124 


A   QUAINT  NARRATIVE 

while,  not  on  the  Hillock,  but  close  by  it  with  their  Legs  on 
the  ground  and  in  the  water,  resting  themselves  against  the 
Hillock,  and  covering  the  hollow  Nest  upon  it  "with  their 
Rumps:  For  their  legs  are  very  long ;  and  building  thus,  as 
they  do,  upon  the  ground,  they  could  neither  draw  their  legs 
conveniently  into  their  Nests,  nor  sit  down  upon  them 
otherwise  than  by  resting  their  whole  bodies  there,  to  the 
prejudice  of  their  Eggs  or  their  young,  were  it  not  for  this 
admirable  contrivance,  which  they  have  by  natural  instinct. 
They  never  lay  more  than  two  Eggs,  and  seldom  fewer. 
The  young  ones  cannot  fly  until  they  are  almost  full-grown ; 
but  will  run  prodigiously  fast ;  yet  we  have  taken  many  of 
them/ 

This  account  of  the  manner  in  which  the  hen  flamingo 
incubates  her  eggs  was  generally  accepted  as  the  right  one 
until  quite  recent  years ;  indeed,  it  still  survives  as  the  lo  ^al 
tradition  in  the  parts  of  Southern  France  where  these  birds 
occasionally  breed.  To  anybody  who  is  unacquainted  with 
their  habits,  it  would  appear  a  very  simple  matter  to  observe 
the  way  in  which  they  sit  upon  their  eggs.  There  are, 
however,  considerable  difficulties  to  be  surmounted,  for  the 
marshes  and  remote  lagoons  in  which  the  flamingoes  nest  are 
often  by  no  means  easy  of  access.  The  birds,  moreover,  are 
extremely  shy,  and  the  greatest  care  is  necessary  in  stalking 
them ;  otherwise  the  whole  colony,  numbering,  it  may  be, 
several  hundreds,  will  be  alarmed  and  take  to  flight,  floating 
through  the  air  like  a  beautiful  pink  cloud. 

Sir  Harry  Blake,  who  was  at  some  trouble  to  study  the 
nesting  habits  of  flamingoes  in  the  Bahamas,  informs  us 
that  in  those  islands  they  begin  to  repair  their  old  nests  or 
to  raise  new  ones  in  the  month  of  May.  They  build  them 
in  the  shallow  margins  of  lagoons  or  on  the  banks,  some- 
times as  many  as  four  hundred  in  a  group  and  but  three  or 

125 


AN  OLD   STORY  DISPROVED 

four  feet  apart.  Standing  on  the  nest,  they  scoop  up  with 
their  beak  the  surrounding  mud,  together  with  sticks,  shells, 
or  anything  else  that  may  happen  to  be  lying  about  the  base, 
and  pat  the  mass  into  shape  with  the  foot — not  merely 
treading  it  down,  but  giving  it  vigorous  slaps,  the  sound  of 
which  can  be  heard  at  a  considerable  distance.  In  this  way 
they  form  a  somewhat  conical  mound  with  a  slight  hollow  at 
the  top,  which  may  contain  a  few  feathers,  though  it  usually 
has  no  lining  of  any  sort.  Sir  Harry  Blake  stalked  the 
birds  to  within  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  and  watched 
them  carefully  through  field-glasses,  but  he  saw  none  with 
their  legs  dangling  outside  the  nest — they  were  always  folded 
under  the  bird  in  the  usual  way.  Some  nests  are  so  low  that 
there  would  not  be  room  for  the  legs  to  hang  down.  On 
the  mud-flats  about  the  Guadalquivir  Mr.  Abel  Chapman 
saw  hundreds  of  nests  only  a  few  inches  high,  so  that 
the  ground  looked  like  a  large  table  covered  with  plates; 
and  we  have  ourselves  observed  the  same  thing  in  that  dis- 
trict. You  may  see  the  marks  made  by  the  bird's  folded 
legs  on  the  rim  of  the  nest.  Occasionally  the  flamingo  is 
content  to  do  without  a  nest  altogether,  merely  depositing 
its  eggs  on  the  ground. 

Old  nests  are  often  renovated  year  after  year  by  the 
addition  of  a  fresh  layer  oi  mud,  and  in  this  way  they  may 
eventually  attain  a  height  of  eighteen  inches  or,  in  rarer 
cases,  two  feet.  No  special  preparations  are  made  for  the 
addition  of  the  new  story,  and  the  birds  do  not  even  take 
the  trouble  to  remove  an  addled  egg,  should  one  remain  in 
the  cavity  from  the  previous  season;  they  merely  cover  it 
over  with  mud  and  build  it  into  the  structure.  On  the 
cover  of  this  book  there  is  a  picture  of  flamingoes  in  one  of 
their  characteristic  haunts,  several  of  the  tall  nests  and 
others  of  the  flat  "dinner-plate"  kind  being  represented. 

126 


AN  ALBATROSS  "ROOKERY 


miliar  sight  to  those  who  voyage  round  the  Cape  or  through  the  Strait 


of  Magellan 


AN  ALBATROS   "ROOKERY" 

The  former  are  often  surrounded  by  water,  above  which  they 
rise  like  miniature  islands. 

Owing  to  the  length  of  her  neck,  the  hen  bird  can  feed 
even  when  sitting  on  one  of  the  high  mounds,  by  scooping 
up  shellfish  from  the  water  in  her  queerly  shaped  beak. 

The  albatroses,  though  scarcely  able  to  compete  with 
some  flamingoes  in  this  respect,  are  also  mound  builders. 
We  are  acquainted  with  about  fifteen  species,  of  which  the 
best  known  is  the  Wandering  Albatros  (Diomedea  exulans), 
whose  flight  is  more  powerful  probably  than  that  of  any 
other  bird,  its  great  wings  measuring  as  much  as  eleven  feet 
from  tip  to  tip.  It  seldom  approaches  land  except  for  the 
purpose  of  nesting,  but  spends  the  greater  part  of  its  life  on 
the  wing,  only  resting  on  the  surface  of  the  water  occasion- 
ally in  calm  or  moderate  weather.  In  October  immense 
numbers  repair  to  the  more  remote  islands  of  the  Southern 
Ocean,  such  as  Tristan  da  Cunha,  where  they  nest  on  the 
tablelands  in  dense  colonies  or  "rookeries.11  They  make 
mounds  of  mud,  mixed  up  with  grass  and  sedge,  about 
fourteen  inches  in  diameter,  and  rather  neatly  rounded. 
The  sides  of  the  mound  are  usually  almost  upright,  but  the 
yellow-billed  albatros — or  "  mollymauk,11  as  sailors  call  it — 
often  undermines  them  a  little  while  sitting,  so  that  the 
mound  becomes  narrower  at  its  foundation  than  it  is  above. 
There  is  a  slight  hollow  in  the  top  to  contain  the  single 
egg,  which  is  white  and  about  as  large  as  that  of  a  swan. 
In  the  picture  the  birds  are  represented  sitting  upon  their 
nests,  and  you  will  observe  that  they  allow  themselves  to  be 
approached  by  the  sailors  who  have  come  ashore  to  rob  them 
of  their  eggs,  without  showing  any  signs  of  excitement. 

Gould,  that  great  authority  on  Australian  birds,  reckoned 
the  Ocellated  Megapode  (Lipoa  ocellata\  commonly  known 
in  England  as  the  Mallee-bird,  amongst  the  most  important 

127 


THE  MALLEE-BIRD 

of  the  ornithological  novelties  which  had  been  discovered 
during  the  exploration  of  the  western  and  southern  portions 
of  the  great  island-continent.  A  description  of  its  remark- 
able habits  was  sent  to  him  towards  the  middle  of  the  last 
century  by  Gilbert  and  Sir  George  Grey.  One  September 
morning  Gilbert  started  out  to  search  for  the  eggs  of  this 
bird,  taking  with  him  a  native  guide.  After  penetrating 
into  the  bush  for  half  an  hour  they  came  upon  one  of  the 
hillocks  in  a  place  where  the  thicket  was  so  dense  that  they 
were  "almost  running  over  it  before  seeing  it.*  Gilbert  was 
very  impatient  to  discover  the  hidden  treasures  and  began 
hurriedly  scraping  away  the  upper  part  of  the  mound, 
greatly  to  the  annoyance  of  the  black-fellow,  who  made  him 
understand  that  as  he  was  not  accustomed  to  opening  a  mallee- 
bird's  mound  he  was  pretty  sure  to  break  the  eggs  in  his 
impatience.  Gilbert  therefore  made  way  for  his  companion, 
who  began  scraping  off  the  earth  very  carefully  from  the 
centre  and  throwing  it  over  the  side,  so  that  the  mound  was 
soon  transformed  into  a  sort  of  huge  basin.  When  the 
earth  had  been  removed  to  a  depth  of  about  two  feet,  they 
came  upon  two  eggs  placed  in  an  upright  position  with  the 
thin  end  downwards.  These  were  removed  with  great  care, 
because  the  shells  are  very  fragile  when  first  exposed  to  the 
air ;  indeed,  they  are  so  thin  and  brittle  that  it  is  practically 
impossible  to  hatch  these  eggs  under  a  domestic  fowl,  because 
the  bird  almost  invariably  breaks  them. 

About  a  hundred  yards  from  the  first  mound  they  came 
upon  another,  somewhat  larger,  which  contained  three  eggs. 
It  proved  to  be  rather  too  early  in  the  season,  however,  for 
Gilbert's  purpose,  for  none  of  the  other  mounds  they  opened 
contained  any  eggs  at  all. 

The  place  where  Gilbert  found  these  ( nests '  was  amongst 
gravelly  hills  clothed  with  a  dense  forest  of  eucalyptus  trees 

128 


PREPARING   THE    INCUBATOR 

overshadowing  a  thicket  of  bushy  plants  so  dense  and  high 
that  whenever  he  and  his  black  guide  became  separated  by 
only  a  few  yards  they  were  obliged  to  cooey  in  order  to  find 
one  another  again. 

To  make  its  mound,  the  mallee-bird  scratches  up  the  sur- 
rounding gravel  and  mixes  that  which  is  destined  to  form 
the  inside  of  the  hillock  with  vegetable  matter.  As  it 
decays,  enough  warmth  is  produced  to  incubate  the  eggs; 
indeed,  the  temperature  within  one  of  these  mounds  is 
stated  to  be  as  high  as  89°  F.,  or  thereabout.  Of  the  nests 
examined  by  Gilbert,  both  those  with  eggs  contained  large 
numbers  of  termites,  which  had  made  their  little  covered 
galleries  of  earth  around  the  shell,  to  which  they  were 
attached,  "  thus  showing,"  he  says,  "  a  beautiful  provision  of 
Nature  in  preparing  the  necessary  tender  food  for  the  young 
bird  on  its  emergence.'1 

The  largest  mound  examined  by  Gilbert  measured  forty- 
five  feet  in  circumference.  He  found  the  inside  or  vegetable 
portion  of  those  mounds  which  were  not  quite  ready  for  use 
cold  and  wet — in  marked  contrast  to  those  in  which  eggs 
were  contained ;  it  appears  likely,  therefore,  that  the  birds 
turn  out  all  the  material  to  dry  before  the  eggs  are  laid. 
As  each  egg  is  deposited  the  birds  cover  it  up  carefully  with 
the  soil  and  make  the  top  of  the  mound,  which  was  before 
scooped  out  into  a  hollow,  perfectly  round  and  smooth,  so 
that  it  might  quite  easily  be  mistaken  for  an  ant-hill  by  any- 
body not  acquainted  with  the  LipocCs  habits.  Some  seven 
or  eight  eggs  are  laid  in  a  circle  around  the  centre  of  the 
nest,  about  three  inches  apart.  They  are  very  large  eggs 
— nearly  four  inches  long,  the  colour  varies  from  light 
salmon  to  a  very  light  brown. 

From  Grey  we  learn  that  the  nest  sometimes  attains  an 
immense  size,  measuring  thirteen  yards  around  the  base  and 

129 


BURYING  THE  EGGS 

two  or  three  feet  in  height,  and  that  to  accumulate  this 
great  heap  of  material  the  bird  scrapes  up  sand  and  grass 
from  more  than  five  yards  around.  As  to  the  actual  way 
in  which  she  goes  to  work,  we  cannot  do  better  than 
quote  Grey's  own  words  from  a  letter  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Gould 
in  the  year  184$.  He  says:  "The  mound  appears  to 
be  constructed  as  follows :  A  nearly  circular  hole,  about 
eighteen  inches  in  diameter,  is  scratched  in  the  ground  to  a 
depth  of  seven  or  eight  inches,  and  filled  with  dead  leaves, 
dead  grass,  and  similar  materials,  and  a  large  mass  of  the 
same  substances  is  placed  all  round  it  upon  the  ground. 
Over  this  first  layer  a  large  mound  of  sand,  mixed  with  dry 
grass,  etc.,  is  thrown,  and  finally  the  whole  assumes  the  form 
of  a  dome.  .  .  .  When  an  egg  is  to  be  deposited,  the  top  is 
laid  open  and  a  hole  scraped  in  its  centre  to  within  two 
or  three  inches  of  the  bottom  layer  of  dead  leaves.  The  egg 
is  placed  in  the  sand  just  at  the  edge  of  the  hole,  in  a 
vertical  position,  with  the  smaller  end  downwards.  The 
sand  is  then  thrown  in  again,  and  the  mound  left  in  its 
original  form.  The  egg  which  has  been  thus  deposited  is 
therefore  completely  surrounded  and  enveloped  in  soft  sand, 
having  from  four  to  six  inches  of  sand  between  the  lower 
end  of  the  egg  and  the  layer  of  dead  leaves.  When  a 
second  egg  is  laid,  it  is  deposited  in  precisely  the  same  plane 
as  the  first,  but  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  hole  before 
alluded  to.  A  third  egg  is  placed  in  the  same  plane  as  the 
others,  but,  as  it  were,  at  the  third  corner  of  the  square  .  .  . 
the  fourth  ...  in  the  fourth  corner  .  .  .  the  figure  being  of 
this  form — o  °  o ;  the  next  four  eggs  in  succession  are  placed 
in  the  interstices,  but  always  in  the  same  plane,  so  that  at 
last  there  is  a  circle  of  eight  eggs,  all  standing  upright  in 
the  sand,  with  several  inches  of  sand  intervening  between 
each.  The  male  bird  assists  the  female  in  opening  and 

130 


THE  AUSTRALIAN  MOUND-BIRD 

covering  up  the  mound,  and  provided  the  birds  are  not 
themselves  disturbed,  the  female  continues  to  lay  in  the 
same  mound,  even  after  it  has  been  several  times  robbed. 
The  natives  say  that  the  hen  bird  lays  an  egg  every  day." 


MALLEE-BIBD'S  MOUND 
AN  IMAGINARY  SECTION  TO  SHOW  ITS  STRUCTURE 

A  cup-like  mass  of  dead  grass  and  leaves  is  piled  over  a  shallow  hole  scratched  in 
the  ground.  This  heap  of  decaying  vegetable  matter  furnishes  the  heat  which 
is  necessary  for  incubation.  The  eggs  (of  which  two  are  shown  in  the  diagram)  are 
placed  in  an  upright  position  within  the  rim  of  the  cup,  embedded  in  a  large  mound 
of  sand  and  dry  grass. 

The  story  of  these  wonderful  mounds,  told  by  Gilbert 
and  Grey  and  Gould,  has  frequently  been  confirmed  by  other 
naturalists.  But  strange  as  it  is,  that  of  the  Australian 
Megapode,  or  Mound-bird  (Megapodius  tumulus\  is  even 
more  surprising.  Here  we  have  a  bird  about  the  size  of  a 
turkey  which  constructs  mounds  which  in  course  of  time 
attain  such  huge  dimensions  that  it  is  no  very  uncommon 
thing  to  find  trees  growing  upon  them !  Of  course  one 
pair  of  megapodes  will  not  make  such  a  mound  in  a  single 
year ;  probably  it  is  the  work  of  many  seasons  and  of  many 
birds,  but  it  is  very  wonderful  all  the  same.  These  mounds 

131 


A  NEST  OF  IRON-STONE 

are  usually  found  in  dense  thickets  near  the  seashore,  or  on 
the  shore  itself,  and  are  often  covered  with  vegetation,  such 
as  the  large  yellow-blossomed  hibiscus.  Those  upon  the 
shore  are  generally  formed  of  sand  and  shells,  without  a 
vestige  of  any  other  material.  Occasionally  they  may  contain 
a  little  soil  and  decaying  wood,  but  unlike  the  mallee- 
birds1  nests,  there  is  nothing  in  the  nature  of  a  hot-bed, 
and  it  is  clear  that  for  their  incubation  the  megapodes' 
eggs  are  dependent  upon  the  heat  of  the  sun.  These  sandy 
mounds  are  often  very  irregular  in  shape,  and  might  almost 
be  mistaken  for  banks  thrown  up  by  a  heavy  sea.  One  in 
Knocker's  Bay  was  upwards  of  twenty-five  feet  long  and  five 
feet  high ;  another  measured  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  cir- 
cumference, and  was  made  of  pebbly  iron-stone — a  strange 
material  for  a  nest !  As  a  rule,  however,  the  bird  displays 
a  more  gentle  instinct  towards  its  eggs,  for  those  mounds 
which  are  made  in  the  thickets  consist  of  a  light,  black  vege- 
table soil.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  in  barren  districts 
megapodes1  mounds  are  sometimes  found  composed  of  this 
same  black  mould,  although  there  may  be  no  earth  like  it  for 
miles  around,  and  it  has  been  supposed  that  the  birds  fetch  it 
from  afar.  We  have  seen,  however,  how  little  they  seem  to 
care  about  providing  a  soft  bed  for  their  eggs,  being  quite 
content  to  make  use  of  whatever  material  they  happen  to  find 
on  the  spot,  so  that  it  is  far  more  probable  that  they  gather 
together  a  few  dead  leaves  and  that  the  black  soil  is  formed 
by  their  decomposition.  These  earthy  mounds  are  not  irre- 
gular in  shape  like  the  heaped-up  masses  of  sand  and  shells 
upon  the  shore,  but  more  or  less  definitely  conical.  The 
eggs  are  placed  in  holes  which  are  dug  from  the  top  to  a 
depth  of  six  feet  or  so  and  generally  (but  not  always)  slope 
outwards  to  within  two  feet  of  the  side  of  the  mound.  The 
natives  informed  Gilbert  that  the  birds  lay  only  one  egg  in 

132 


DIGGING  FOR  EGGS 

each  pit,  and  that  as  soon  as  it  is  laid  they  fill  up  the  hole 
level  with  the  surface.  It  is  always  possible  to  tell  whether 
a  megapode  has  lately  been  excavating  by  examining  the 
soil  and  thrusting  a  stick  into  it ;  the  looser  the  earth,  the 
more  easily  the  stick  penetrates,  and  the  more  recently  has 
the  mound  been  opened.  It  requires  some  skill  and  a  great 
deal  of  patience  to  get  at  the  eggs.  The  natives  burrow 
away  with  their  hands,  making  a  hole  just  large  enough  to 
crawl  into,  and  throwing  out  the  sand  or  earth  between  their 
legs.  Their  endurance  is  sometimes  severely  tried,  for  it 
may  happen  that  they  dig  for  six  or  seven  feet  without 
coming  upon  a  single  egg,  suffering  terribly  meanwhile  from 
the  bites  of  myriads  of  sand  flies  and  mosquitoes. 

The  eggs  are  about  three  and  a  half  inches  long,  and  are 
placed  upright  on  the  thin  end.  The  shell  itself  is  white, 
but  it  is  covered  with  a  kind  of  thin  skin  which  becomes 
stained  by  the  materials  in  which  it  is  buried,  so  that  eggs 
taken  from  the  sandy  hillocks  on  the  seashore  are  a  dirty 
yellowish  white  in  colour,  while  those  from  the  black-earth 
mounds  are  of  a  darker  reddish-brown  tint.  The  natives 
say  that  they  are  laid  between  sunset  and  sunrise,  at  intervals 
of  a  few  days. 


'33 


CHAPTER  VIII 
MASONS 

Architectural  ingenuity — Mud  houses — Dauber  wasps— Catholic  tastes — 
Warm  corners — Dauber's  daintiness — The  builder  at  work — Laying 
in  provisions— Ingenious  cruelty — A  spider  bomb — Working  by  rote 
— A  fruitless  task— Building  improvements — Mason  bees  and  rough- 
cast—A natural  cement — Collecting  materials— Building  stones— Cake- 
making—  Roofing  in — Restoring  old  buildings— Cupolas— The  key- 
stone— Clusters  of  nests— Plasterers— Sheltered  sites— Keeping  out 
trespassers — A  stout  wall — Born  in  the  midst  of  plenty — Odynerus 
— A  firm  foundation — Softening  the  ground — Excavations — A  Lilli- 
putian leaning  tower — Filigree  walls— An  invader  discouraged — 
Furnishing  the  larder — A  stack  of  bricks— Bee  hodmen — Porches  and 
sentinels. 

IN  some  parts  of  the  world  where  the  materials  which  we 
are  in  the  habit  of  using  to  build  our  houses  cannot  be 
obtained,  the  natives  construct  dwellings  entirely  of  mud, 
which  soon  becomes  baked  into  a  hard  mass  by  the  heat  of 
the  sun.  Many  animUs  do  precisely  the  same  thing ;  some 
of  them  make  use  of  earth  which  is  naturally  moist,  but  in 
that  case  they  take  care  to  choose  sheltered  spots  for  their 
homes,  which  would  very  soon  be  destroyed  and  washed  away 
if  they  were  exposed  to  rain ;  others  prefer  dust  as  a  build- 
ing material,  and  by  mixing  it  with  their  saliva  transform  it 
into  a  stiff  paste  which  adheres  firmly  together  and  becomes, 
when  dry,  almost  as  hard  as  stone.  Some  put  the  final 
touches  to  their  work  by  plastering  the  inside  or  outside 
walls  of  the  nest  with  a  kind  of  waterproof  varnish,  the 

134 


DAUBER  WASPS 

product  of  certain  glands,  or  by  embedding  particles  of  grit 
in  them. 

The  Dauber  Wasps  (Pelopceus)  supply  us  with  beautiful 
examples  of  these  mud  houses. 

As  they  are  exceedingly  chilly  little  creatures,  they  choose 
the  warmest  places  they  can  find  for  the  purpose  of  making 
nests  intended  to  shelter  their  offspring.  The  species  of 
Pelopceus  which  is  common  in  the  south  of  Europe  builds 
under  eaves  and  cornices,  and  in  sheds  and  barns ;  but  the 
situation  she  likes  best  of  all  is  the  interior  of  a  peasant's 
cottage.  There  no  spot  seems  to  come  amiss  to  her,  and  she 
makes  herself  thoroughly  at  home ;  she  takes  possession  of 
walls  or  ceiling,  windows  or  curtains,  with  indifference,  greatly 
to  the  annoyance  and  despair  of  the  housewife.  Rights  of 
property  are  unknown  to  her;  she  bustles  about  with  a 
cheerful  disregard  of  everything  but  her  own  immediate 
business,  and  we  have  it  on  the  authority  of  that  excellent 
natualist  M.  Fabre  that  whilst  some  labourers  were  enjoy- 
ing their  dinner  at  an  inn,  dauber  wasps  came  and  built 
nests  in  their  hats  and  in  the  folds  of  their  smock-frocks ! 
Of  all  places,  however,  the  one  in  which  she  is  happiest  is 
the  inside  of  a  wide  old-fashioned  farm-house  chimney.  A 
strange  taste  it  seems  to  us,  and  one  wonders  how  the  poor 
insects,  which  are  constantly  flitting  to  and  fro,  escape 
suffocation  by  the  smoke  or  contrive  not  to  be  burnt  to 
death.  But  Fabre  noticed  that  even  when  the  pots  were 
boiling  on  the  fire  the  insects  did  not  appear  to  mind  in  the 
least,  but  went  about  their  work  as  usual,  darting  quickly 
through  the  thick  curtain  of  steam  and  smoke. 

The  dauber  wasps  build  their  nests  at  various  times  of 
the  year ;  one  month  seems  to  suit  them  as  well  as  another, 
as  long  as  the  weather  is  warm.  When  they  are  ready  to 
commence  work  they  seek  in  the  surrounding  country  for 

135 


THE   BUILDER  AT   WORK 

a  patch  of  damp,  muddy  land,  and  having  found  it,  it  is 
delightful  to  see  the  dainty  way  in  which  they  set  about 
their  task  and  the  pains  they  take  to  avoid  dirtying  them- 
selves. With  quivering  wings  and  feet  held  well  up  out 
of  the  way,  with  their  black  body  uptilted  behind  the 
yellow  waist,  they  scrape  away  with  the  tips  of  their 
mandibles  (or  jaws)  and  skim  the  glistening  surface  of  the 
soft  mud. 

The  most  careful  housewife,  who  turns  up  her  sleeves  and 
gathers  her  skirts  together  while  she  is  busied  with  the 
rougher  household  duties,  could  not  carry  on  her  work  with 
greater  regard  for  cleanliness.  These  little  mud-gatherers 
are  marvels  of  neatness,  but  instead  of  turning  up  sleeves 
they  keep  every  part  of  their  body  from  the  least  contact 
with  the  mud,  excepting  only  the  tips  of  their  toes,  so 
to  speak,  and  the  points  of  their  mandibles.  In  this  manner 
Peloposus  gathers  together  a  pellet  of  moist  earth  about  the 
size  of  a  pea  and,  holding  it  in  her  jaws,  flies  away  with 
it  to  the  chosen  spot.  Without  mixing  it  with  saliva,  she 
then  moulds  it  roughly  and  spreads  it  over  the  work  which 
she  has  already  begun,  fashioning  a  hollow  cell  about  an 
inch  long  and  more  or  less  egg-shaped.  The  cell  is  carefully 
smoothed  inside,  but  the  outside  wall  is  quite  rough  and 
irregular.  When  she  has  finished  one  cell  she  makes  another 
by  the  side  of  it,  then  a  third,  and  so  on,  all  of  them  of 
the  same  pattern ;  and  sometimes  she  places  a  second  and 
a  third  row  alongside  the  first.  Inside  every  compartment 
the  Peloposus  puts  a  number  of  spiders,  paralysing  them  first 
by  means  of  her  sting ;  alongside  these  she  deposits  an  egg, 
and  then  closes  up  the  mouth  of  the  cell. 

It  is  a  horrible  thing  to  do,  and  one  likes  to  believe  that 
the  poisonous  wound  that  paralyses  the  spider  deprives  it 
not  only  of  the  power  of  movement,  but  of  all  feeling  too. 

136 


INGENIOUS   CRUELTY 

Alluding  to  the  wasps,  Mr.  Hudson  says  :l  "These  insects,  with 
a  refinement  of  cruelty,  prefer  not  to  kill  their  victims  out- 
right, but  merely  to  maim  them,  then  house  them  in  cells 
where  the  grubs  can  vivisect  them  at  leisure.  This  is  one  of 
those  revolting  facts  the  fastidious  soul  cannot  escape  from 
in  warm  climates;  for  in  and  out  of  open  windows  and 
doors,  all  day  long,  all  the  summer  through,  comes  the  busy 
beautiful  mason  wasp.  A  long  body,  wonderfully  slim  at 
the  waist,  bright  yellow  legs  and  thorax,  and  a  dark  crimson 
abdomen — what  object  can  be  prettier  to  look  at  ?  But  in 
her  life  this  wasp  is  not  beautiful.  At  home  in  summer 
they  were  the  pests  of  my  life,  for  nothing  would  serve  to 
keep  them  out.  One  day,  while  we  were  seated  at  dinner, 
a  clay  nest,  which  a  wasp  had  succeeded  in  completing 
unobserved,  detached  itself  from  the  ceiling  and  fell  with 
a  crash  on  to  the  table,  where  it  was  shattered  to  pieces, 
scattering  a  shower  of  green  half-living  spiders  round  it. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  feeling  of  intense  repugnance  I 
experienced  at  the  sight,  coupled  with  detestation  of  the 
pretty  but  cruel  little  architect.*" 

When  the  series  of  cells  is  complete,  the  Pelopceus  coats 
them  roughly  all  over  with  a  layer  of  dirt  so  that  the  nest 
has  the  appearance  of  a  lump  of  mud  which  has  been  thrown 
against  the  wall.  The  happy  idea  occurred  to  Fabre  of 
removing  a  nest  before  it  was  quite  finished,  and  putting 
it  in  his  pocket  in  order  to  see  what  the  insect  would  do. 
In  the  place  where  the  structure  had  been  there  was  no 
longer  anything  but  the  blank  wall  and  a  thin,  broken  rim 
of  earth  where  the  edges  of  the  patch  of  mud  had  adhered. 
After  a  while  the  Pelopceus  returned  with  its  load  of  clay, 
alighted  on  the  same  spot  without  any  apparent  hesitation, 
laid  down  its  burden,  and  began  to  spread  out  the  mud  just 
1  The  Naturalist  in  La  Plata. 
'37 


A  FRUITLESS  TASK 

as  though  the  nest  had  still  been  there.  It  was  quite  clear 
from  the  busy  but  unexcited  way  in  which  the  insect  went 
about  its  work  that  it  supposed  it  was  the  nest  which  was 
being  coated  over  with  plaster,  and  not  merely  a  patch  of 
bare  wall  from  which  the  nest  had  been  removed.  Nor  was 
it  ever  made  conscious  of  the  loss  either  by  the  altered 
colour  of  the  spot  or  by  the  absence  of  the  lump  of  earth ; 
thirty  or  forty  times  it  returned  to  its  fruitless  toil. 

Fabre  afterwards  made  another  curious  experiment.  A 
cell  had  just  been  completed  by  the  introduction  of  a  spider 
and  an  egg,  and  the  Pehp&us  had  flown  off  to  search  for 
a  fresh  victim.  During  its  absence  Fabre  took  a  pair  of 
forceps  and  carefully  removed  both  spider  and  egg.  Did 
the  little  huntress  perceive  that  she  had  been  robbed  of 
these  precious  things?  Apparently  she  did  not,  for  on 
returning  with  another  spider  she  placed  it  in  the  larder 
just  as  cheerfully  as  though  nothing  vexatious  had  occurred. 
One  by  one  a  lot  more  spiders  were  brought,  and  one  by  one 
Fabre  removed  them  whilst  the  insect  was  away,  so  that  it 
came  back  each  time  to  an  empty  storehouse.  This  went  on 
for  two  days,  the  insect  toiling  hard  to  fill  the  insatiable 
pot  while  the  naturalist  stole  the  contents  as  soon  as  its 
back  was  turned.  When  twenty  victims  had  been  brought 
and  spirited  away  in  this  manner,  judging  perhaps  by  the 
fatigue  occasioned  by  such  excessive  efforts,  the  huntress 
seemed  to  imagine  that  her  game  bag  must  at  last  be  full, 
for  she  carefully  closed  up  the  cell  which  contained  nothing 
whatever.  This  experiment  is  very  interesting,  but  it  would 
delay  us  too  long  if  we  were  to  enter  upon  a  consideration 
of  the  conclusions  which  might  be  drawn  from  it,  and  we 
must  pass  on  to  other  insect  masons. 

Many  Hymenoptera,  or  insects  belonging  to  the  order  of 
ants,  bees,  and  wasps,  seem  to  have  found  out  that  nests 


A  NATURAL   CEMENT 

made  of  mud  or  dust  are  not  very  durable  structures  even 
when  strengthened  with  a  cement  of  adhesive  saliva,  and  it 
has  occurred  to  them  to  introduce  rubble  as  an  additional 
material.  In  spite  of  the  circumstance  that  it  is  very  diffi- 
cult for  them  to  fly  about  burdened  with  pieces  of  grit,  they 
have  succeeded  very  well  in  their  enterprise,  and  the  sub- 
stance of  their  buildings  may  be  compared  to  that  mixture 
of  cement  and  gravel  which  is  known  as  '  rough-cast.' 

A  very  good  example  of  this  is  found  in  the  Mason 
Bees  called  Chalicodoma,  whose  cement-built  houses  are  some- 
times so  firm  that  it  is  necessary  to  use  iron  instruments  if 
you  want  to  break  into  them.  These  nests  are  placed  on 
rocks,  or  more  usually  on  old  walls,  those  which  face  south 
being  preferred  for  the  purpose,  and  they  have  the  appear- 
ance of  big  splashes  of  mud  made  by  the  wheels  of  passing 
vehicles,  or  thrown  up  from  the  horses'  feet.  The  builders 
are  so  particular  about  the  solidity  of  their  dwellings  that 
they  carefully  avoid  attaching  them  to  plastered  walls  or  to 
mortar  between  the  stones,  but  build  them  on  the  stone 
itself;  and,  as  if  not  content  with  this  precaution,  they 
nearly  always  choose  in  addition  the  place  in  which  they  can 
be  most  securely  .fixed,  preferring  especially  the  angles  formed 
by  copings,  plinths,  window-sills,  and  so  on. 

As  M.  Fabre  has  told  us,  the  mason  bee's  building  material 
consists  of  chalky  clay  mixed  with  a  little  sand  and  hardened 
with  the  insect's  own  saliva.  Damp  soil,  which  would  not 
only  be  easier  to  work  but  would  also  require  less  saliva  for 
making  the  mortar,  is  passed  by  disdainfully ;  a  Chalicodoma 
rejects  moist  earth  for  building  as  certainly  as  a  bricklayer 
would  reject  old  plaster  or  'spent'  lime.  Such  materials, 
sodden  with  water,  would  not  take  a  good  hold.  What  the 
insect  wants  is  perfectly  dry  dust  which  will  readily  soak  up 
the  saliva  which  is  poured  upon  it,  and  form,  with  the 


BUILDING  STONES 

albuminous  matter  contained  in  this  secretion,  a  sort  of 
rapidly  hardening  cement,  not  unlike  the  adhesive  substance 
you  can  make  by  mixing  quicklime  with  white  of  egg. 

The  body  of  the  male  bee  is  covered  with  red  down  of 
rather  a  bright  tint,  but  in  the  female  it  is  of  a  beautiful 
velvety  black,  and  the  wings  show  a  pleasing  shade  of  deep 
violet  colour.  It  is  the  female  alone  who  constructs  the 
nest.  For  this  purpose  she  seeks  out  a  dry  spot,  and  scrapes 
together  a  little  heap  of  cement  which  she  makes  into  a 
pellet  about  the  size  of  those  used  for  shooting  rabbits. 
Carrying  this  in  her  jaws,  she  flies  with  it  to  the  place  she  has 
decided  upon  and  on  arriving  there  deposits  her  burden  on 
the  wall  and  proceeds  to  fashion  a  rounded  pad.  From  time 
to  time  she  fetches  grains  of  sand  and  grit  and  embeds  them 
in  the  cement  while  it  is  still  soft. 

In  order  to  save  labour  and  at  the  same  time  to  economize 
in  the  expenditure  of  mortar,  the  insect  chooses  coarse 
materials,  using  large  fragments  of  grit  which  are  for  her, 
in  proportion  to  her  size,  true  building  stones.  She  selects 
them  one  by  one  with  care,  seeming  to  prefer  those  which 
are  very  hard  and  have  sharp  corners  so  that  when  they  are 
fitted  together  they  give  support  to  each  other  and  contribute 
to  the  solidity  of  the  whole  structure.  Beds  of  mortar, 
sparingly  spread  between  the  stones,  hold  them  firmly  to- 
gether. The  outside  of  the  mass  thus  takes  on  the  appear- 
ance of  an  irregularly  built  wall,  such  as  you  may  see  during 
a  country  walk,  the  stones  with  all  their  natural  irregularities 
making  a  rough,  uneven  surface ;  but  the  interior  must  be 
smooth  so  as  not  to  injure  the  tender  skin  of  the  grub,  and 
on  that  account  it  is  plastered  over  with  pure  mortar. 
Except  for  this,  however,  the  chamber  is  finished  off  quite 
carelessly,  as  though  with  heedless  sweeps  of  the  trowel, 
and  to  make  it  more  comfortable  the  grub,  as  soon  as  it  has 

140 


CAKE-MAKING 

devoured  its  cake  of  honey,  hastens  to  make  a  cocoon  for 
itself,  and  so  covers  the  walls  of  its  home  with  a  soft  lining 
of  silk. 

But  we  must  return  for  a  moment  to  the  little  mason. 
When  the  bee  has  laid  down  a  foundation,  she  builds  upon  it 
little  by  little  in  such  a  way  as  to  wall  in  i  thimble-shaped 
cavity,  with  the  opening  turned  upwards.  When  this  has 
been  done,  the  insect  gives  up  her  occupation  of  bricklayer 
for  a  little  while  in  order  to  collect  food  for  her  future 
offspring.  She  hurries  away  amongst  the  flowers  and  works 
busily,  diving  eagerly  into  those  of  the  broom  and  emerging 
afterwards  with  a  crop  distended  with  honey  and  body 
smothered  in  pollen.  On  her  return  she  immediately  plunges 
her  head  into  the  cell  she  has  made  and  disgorges  the  honey ; 
then  she  comes  out  again  and  carefully  brushes  the  pollen 
from  her  body,  so  that  that  also  falls  in  the  larder.  As 
soon  as  she  has  scraped  herself  clean  she  again  enters  the  cell 
and  mixes  the  honey  and  pollen  into  one  homogeneous 
mass  or  cake ;  after  which  she  starts  out  afresh  to  procure 
further  supplies. 

When  the  cell  is  about  half  full  the  bee  deposits  an  egg 
in  it  and  begins  without  delay  to  close  up  the  nest  with  a 
lid  of  pure  mortar,  working  from  the  circumference  inwards 
towards  the  centre.  The  whole  of  this  work  requires  about 
two  days  for  its  completion. 

Immediately  after  finishing  one  cell  the  little  mason 
proceeds  to  build  another  exactly  like  it,  by  the  side  of  the 
first ;  then  a  third,  and  so  on,  until  there  are  eight  or  ten  of 
them  in  all. 

Now  although  these  cells  are  closed  in  on  every  side,  the 
lids  are  very  thin,  and  there  is  little  doubt  that  they  would 
quickly  crack  if  left  exposed  to  the  heat  of  the  summer,  and 
be  completely  destroyed  by  autumn  rains  and  winter  frosts ; 

141 


RESTORING  OLD  BUILDINGS 

so  the  architect  takes  care  not  to  leave  them  in  this  condition, 
As  soon  as  the  last  cell  is  completed  she  sets  about  making 
a  thick  lid  to  cover  them  all  in ;  a  lid  composed  of  matter 
which  is  both  waterproof  and  a  bad  conductor  of  heat, 
affording  protection  at  one  and  the  same  time  against  rain, 
sun,  and  frost.  This  substance  is  the  ordinary  mortar,  earth 
mingled  with  saliva,  but  this  time  without  any  admixture  of 
tiny  stones.  The  bee  lays  on,  pellet  by  pellet,  trowelful  by 
trowelful  as  it  were,  a  bed  of  cement  nearly  half  an  inch 
thick  over  the  whole  cluster  of  cells,  which  is  thus  lost  to 
sight  and  completely  buried  under  a  coating  of  mineral 
matter.  When  finished,  the  nest  is  roughly  dome-shaped 
and  about  the  size  of  half  an  orange. 

We  have  just  seen  how  a  new  nest  is  built  from  foundation 
to  finish,  for  that  is  what  frequently  happens.  But  not 
always ;  very  often,  indeed,  if  a  Chalicodoma  comes  across  an 
old  nest  in  a  more  or  less  dilapidated  condition,  she  is  quite 
content  to  take  possession  of  it  and  patch  it  up  until  it  is  in 
a  fit  state  to  receive  her  offspring.  These  repairs  are  not 
usually  a  very  serious  matter,  as  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  do 
more  than  stop  up  the  holes  by  which  the  young  of  the 
original  architect  have  made  their  escape,  and  to  remove  the 
shreds  of  cocoons  lining  the  walls. 

The  solitary  wasps  known  as  Eumenes  they  (have  no  com- 
mon name)  also  make  free  use  of  grit  in  constructing  then: 
cement  houses — to  an  even  greater  extent,  perhaps,  than 
Chalicodoma^  the  mason  bee. 

These  wasps  are  adepts  in  the  mixing  of  mortar,  and  are 
very  clever  architects  besides.  The  Eumenes  Amedei  is 
of  a  chilly  nature  and  seeks  solid  rocks  exposed  to  the  full 
glare  of  the  sun,  where  it  builds  a  nest  the  appearance  of 
which  suggests  an  Esquimaux  hut.  This  nest  is  evenly 
curved  like  a  piece  cut  off  the  top  of  an  egg,  and  measures 

142 


THE   KEYSTONE 

an  inch  across  and  not  quite  so  much  in  height.  It  is 
attached  by  its  wide  base  to  the  rock,  and  opens  towards  the 
top  by  a  neck  the  rim  of  which  is  gracefully  curved  out- 
wards. In  building  this  nest,  Eumenes  makes  use  of  saliva 
mixed  with  very  dry  dust  collected  from  dusty  roads, 
combined  with  tiny  fragments  of  stone,  especially  quartz, 
and  sometimes  with  little  shells. 

Fabre  observed  that  the  builder,  having  selected  a  suitable 
spot,  first  raises  a  little  circular  wall  about  an  eighth  of  an 
inch  in  thickness ;  then  before  the  cement  has  had  time  to 
become  hard — which  it  does  very  soon — she  embeds  a  few 
stones  in  the  soft  mass  as  the  work  proceeds.  She  half 
buries  them  in  the  cement  in  such  a  manner  that  they  project 
considerably  from  the  outer  wall,  but  do  not  penetrate  to  the 
interior  of  the  cell,  which  has  to  be  kept  smooth  for  the 
comfort  of  the  grub.  Any  inside  irregularities  are  smoothed 
over  when  need  be  with  the  aid  of  a  little  cement.  The 
stones  are  solidly  set,  a  layer  of  mortar  is  spread  over  them, 
then  another  course  of  stones  is  laid,  and  so  on  alternately. 
As  the  work  proceeds  the  walls  are  gradually  made  to  slope 
towards  the  centre  so  that  the  building  is  given  just  that 
curvature  which  results  in  the  more  or  less  spherical  shape 
mentioned  above.  When  we  build  a  vaulted  chamber  we 
use  wooden  arches  to  support  the  masonry  until  the  keystone 
which  makes  all  secure  is  placed  in  position ;  but  the  Eumenes 
is  more  daring  than  we  are,  for  she  erects  a  cupola  in  space 
without  any  scaffolding  whatever  to  aid  her.  At  the  summit 
a  round  hole  is  fashioned,  leading  into  a  mouth  made  of  pure 
cement,  the  edges  of  which  are  'lipped'  outwards.  It 
reminds  one  of  the  gracefully  curved  neck  of  an  Etruscan 
vase.  When  the  cell  has  been  provisioned  and  an  egg  has 
been  deposited  in  it,  this  neck  is  closed  up  with  a  plug  of 
cement  and  in  the  cement  a  little  stone  is  set — one  only, 

143 


PLASTERERS 

never  more — the  builder  is  particular  about  that,  and  seems 
to  regard  it  as  a  most  important  ceremony. 

This  piece  of  rustic  architecture  can  defy  the  worst  of 
weather;  you  can  make  no  impression  on  it  with  your 
fingers,  nor  can  you  remove  it  unbroken  with  a  pocket-knife. 
Its  peculiar  form  and  the  fragments  of  grit  which  stick  out 
on  all  sides  recall  certain  ancient  cromlechs  and  tumuli  dotted 
over  with  gigantic  blocks  of  stone. 

Such  is  the  appearance  of  a  single,  isolated  cell.  In  most 
cases,  however,  the  wasp  constructs  others  on  the  top  of  this, 
to  the  number  of  five  or  six  or  even  more,  and  so  saves  a 
certain  amount  of  labour,  because  where  two  chambers  are 
side  by  side  the  same  wall  serves  for  both  of  them.  But  the 
graceful  shape  is  lost,  and  at  the  first  glance  such  a  group 
looks  like  nothing  more  than  a  splash  of  mud  covered  all 
over  with  tiny  stones.  If,  however,  we  examine  this  ap- 
parently shapeless  mass  more  closely,  we  can  distinguish  the 
number  of  chambers  by  the  bell-shaped  openings,  each  one 
being  quite  distinct  from  all  the  others  and  furnished  with 
its  little  stone  door  embedded  in  cement. 

Quite  at  the  beginning  of  the  springtime  you  may  observe, 
foraging  among  the  flowers,  some  pretty  little  hymenoptera 
whose  coppery  skin  is  covered  with  bright  red  down.  These 
are  the  Osmia  bees,  and  their  arrival,  like  that  of  the 
swallows,  foretells  the  advent  of  sunny  days. 

In  spite  of  their  dainty  appearance  they  are  sturdy 
labourers  accustomed  to  hard  work,  and  they  pass  no  small 
portion  of  their  lives  in  making  mortar  from  mud.  Unlike 
many  of  their  relatives,  these  insects  are  merely  plasterers. 
They  are  not  even  skilled  in  the  manufacture  of  hydraulic 
cements  from  road-dust  and  saliva,  but  are  content  to  build 
their  nests  of  no  better  material  than  ordinary  mud, 
collected  and  moulded,  apparently,  without  any  special 

144 


SHELTERED  SITES 

preparation  whatever.  A  nest  so  fragile  that  a  drop  of 
water  would  cause  it  to  fall  to  pieces  must  of  course  be  built 
in  some  place  well  sheltered  from  the  rain,  and  we  find  as 
a  matter  of  fact  that  the  Osmias  almost  invariably  nest  in 
cavities  which  afford  them  ample  protection,  displaying  ex- 
cellent judgment  in  their  choice.  Their  nests  are  often  placed 
in  the  hollow  stems  of  reeds,  usually  in  those  which  have  been 
put  to  some  use  by  man.  The  reason  for  this  is  not  difficult 
to  understand.  When  reeds  have  been  cut  down,  the  part 
that  is  left  standing  offers  an  ayslum  which  the  insect  might 
enter  without  any  difficulty  by  way  of  the  divided  end,  but 
such  a  cavity  is  exposed  to  falling  rain,  and  that  is  just  what 
the  Osmia  ought  to  avoid.  She  might,  it  is  true,  readily 
stop  up  the  opening  with  a  plug  of  mud.  She  does  better 
than  that,  however ;  she  chooses  for  her  abode  the  part  which 
has  been  cut  off",  because  she  finds  it  lying  flat,  and  in  that 
position  no  rain  can  penetrate  into  the  hollow.  On  this 
account  Osmias  very  frequently  make  their  nests  inside  the 
straws  and  reeds  of  which  thatches  are  composed. 

In  their  choice  of  a  nesting-place,  however,  Osmias  do  not 
by  any  means  restrict  themselves  to  reeds  and  rushes,  but 
accept  almost  any  retreat  that  offers,  so  long  as  it  meets 
their  requirements  as  a  shelter.  Perhaps  the  most  curious 
of  these  is  an  empty  snail-shell,  the  interior  of  which  they 
divide  by  means  of  mud  walls  into  a  number  of  chambers, 
in  each  of  which  an  egg  is  deposited.  Failing  reeds  and 
snail-shells,  they  will  take  possession  of  the  deserted  nest 
of  a  mason  bee,  or  the  galleries  which  Colletes  hollow  out  of 
dry  banks ;  while  keyholes  and  cavities  in  the  woodwork  of 
houses,  or  glass  tubes  such  as  chemists  use,  do  not  come 
amiss  to  them  on  occasion,  and  they  will  establish  them- 
selves without  hesitation  in  any  of  these  places.  Further- 
more, each  species  has  its  own  peculiar  habits  from  which  it 

145 


A  STOUT  WALL 

will  not  depart  unless  circumstances  compel  it  to  do  so. 
Some  of  them,  for  instance,  do  not  make  use  of  mud  at  all, 
but  cut  up  either  soft  or  woody  plants  into  small  pieces,  and 
after  making  a  true  paper -pulp  from  them  employ  this 
material  for  the  homes  of  their  offspring. 

As  soon  as  an  Osmia  has  found  a  cavity  to  her  liking,  she 
sweeps  it  out  carefully  and  carries  the  refuse  away  to  some 
distance.  Then  she  proceeds  to  dust  it,  working  towards 
the  opening  and  throwing  the  dust  outside.  If  the  tunnel 
be  a  narrow  one,  she  gathers  her  store  of  honey  and  pollen 
for  the  young  forthwith,  after  merely  smoothing  the  walls 
with  a  coating  of  mud  wherever  it  is  necessary  to  do  so. 
But  if  the  cavity  appear  too  wide,  the  first  thing  she  does 
is  to  make  a  chamber  at  the  far  end  by  building  a  cross 
wall,  leaving  openings  at  one  side;  then  she  furnishes  it 
with  a  stock  of  provisions,  blocks  up  the  apertures,  and 
begins  a  second  compartment  a  little  further  on,  and  so 
forth. 

An  Osmia  that  has  taken  possession  of  a  wide  tube  begins 
by  closing  it  with  a  wall,  with  the  object,  apparently,  of 
keeping  out  other  insects  which  might  come  and  lay  their  eggs 
there  to  the  detriment  of  the  lawful  owner.  In  order  to 
construct  this  partition,  she  first  lays  down  a  circular  rim, 
and  adds  little  by  little  to  its  edge,  turning  round  and 
round  with  her  head  pointing  on  one  side  of  the  wall  in 
process  of  formation,  and  her  body  on  the  other,  so  that 
the  hinder  extremity  acts  as  a  trowel,  and  the  wall  is  pressed 
between  this  and  the  jaws,  and  is  thus  gradually  smoothed 
and  spread  out  into  a  perfectly  even  layer.  The  first 
chambers  that  are  formed  in  a  reed  are  longer,  and  have 
walls  which  are  farther  apart,  than  those  which  are  made  as 
the  insect  gets  nearer  the  end ;  but  there  is  no  regular 
gradation  of  size.  The  final  wall,  which  closes  the  whole 

146 


A  FIRM  FOUNDATION 

series,  is  very  thick,  and  is  clearly  intended  to  protect  the 
contents  of  the  tube  against  damage  from  without. 

Each  chamber  is  furnished  with  a  collection  of  pollen  in 
the  midst  of  which  the  bee  disgorges  a  little  honey,  which 
filters  and  penetrates  amongst  the  grains  and  forms  a 
nutritious  pulp.  The  egg  is  deposited  with  one  end  em- 
bedded in  this  sweet  cake,  and  thus  it  comes  about  that  the 
grub  is  born  with  its  mouth  in  the  midst  of  plenty  and  is 
able  to  commence  the  serious  business  of  eating  without 
the  necessity  of  changing  its  position.  When  it  has  consumed 
the  whole  store  of  food  it  spins  a  cocoon,  from  which  there 
emerges  in  due  course  an  adult  Osmia,  whose  active  life 
endures  scarcely  a  single  year. 

One  of  the  most  plentiful  of  English  insects  is  the  little 
yellow-banded  black  wasp  called  Odynerus  murarius  which 
may  be  observed  on  sunny  days  flitting  about  sand-banks, 
busily  engaged  in  burrowing  and  building.  This  wasp  is 
an  excavator  as  well  as  a  mason,  and  it  works  on  a  very 
curious  and  ingenious  plan,  for  as  it  burrows  in  the  ground 
it  makes  tiny  bricks  of  the  material  it  digs  out  of  the  hole, 
and  builds  them  up  in  the  form  of  a  round  tower  about  the 
mouth  of  the  nest.  About  June  and  the  early  part  of  July 
you  may  frequently  see  these  strange  chimney-like  structures 
projecting  from  the  surface  of  sand-banks  which  are  exposed 
to  the  glare  of  the  sun.  The  Odynems  chooses  hard, 
compact  sand  for  its  operations — sand  which  is  almost  as 
hard  as  stone,  and  on  which  it  is  difficult  to  make  any 
impression  with  your  fingers.  In  this  it  displays  much 
wisdom,  for  the  building  that  is  founded  upon  rock  is 
proverbially  more  likely  to  stand  than  one  raised  upon 
loose  sand;  while,  as  for  the  burrow,  it  is  even  more  im- 
portant that  the  ground  should  be  fairly  solid,  for  other- 
wise there  would  be  every  likelihood  of  the  sides  of  the 

147 


A  LILLIPUTIAN  LEANING  TOWER 

shaft  falling  in  so  that  the  labour  would  all  have  to  be 
performed  again — even  if  the  worker  escaped.  But  how 
is  so  small  an  insect  (for  our  Odynerus  is  less  than  half  an 
inch  in  length)  to  penetrate  into  such  hard  ground  to  a 
depth  of  several  inches  ?  This  seemingly  impossible  task  is 
carried  out  with  ease,  for  the  insect  has  hit  upon  the  simple 
and  effective  device  of  moistening  the  surface  with  drops 
of  fluid  from  her  mouth,  so  that  the  particles  become  loose 
and  yield  readily  to  the  attacks  of  her  strong  jaws.  By 
this  means  she  scrapes  up  a  few  grains  of  sand,  which  she 
first  rolls  into  a  small  pellet  with  the  front  pair  of  legs, 
and  then  places  on  the  edge  of  the  cavity  formed  by  its  re- 
moval. The  tiny  mass  is  about  as  large  as  the  space  within 
the  small  letter  "  o  "  on  this  page,  and  it  forms  the  founda- 
tion-stone of  one  of  the  towers  or  chimneys  mentioned  above. 
With  the  jaws  and  feet  it  is  moulded  and  flattened  and 
pressed  into  position,  and  then  the  work  is  continued  as 
before.  Pellet  after  pellet  is  fashioned  in  this  manner  and 
placed  around  the  rim  of  the  hole,  the  sand  being  moistened 
from  time  to  time,  as  often  as  may  be  necessary  to  facilitate 
the  work  of  excavation.  Before  very  long  the  base  of  the 
tower  is  definitely  established,  and  the  beginning  of  the 
pit  is  clearly  apparent  below  the  level  of  the  surrounding 
surface.  At  frequent  intervals  the  operations  are  suspended 
for  a  short  space  while  the  busy  worker  makes  an  excursion 
in  search  of  fresh  supplies  of  fluid  to  pour  down  upon  the 
hard,  dry  sand;  but  in  spite  of  these  interruptions  the 
excavating  and  building  proceed  apace,  and  in  the  course 
of  a  few  hours  a  round  tower  some  two  inches  in  height, 
standing  like  a  Lilliputian  citadel  above  a  pit  of  equal  depth 
sunk  in  the  solid  earth,  testifies  to  the  untiring  industry 
of  the  little  wasp.  The  first  part  of  the  tower  is  built 
perpendicularly  to  the  surface  on  which  its  foundation 

148 


FURNISHING  THE   LARDER 

rests ;  but  it  soon  begins  to  take  a  curved  direction,  and 
the  top  overhangs  to  a  degree  which  looks  extremely 
perilous.  The  unstable  appearance  is  enhanced  by  the 
structure  of  the  walls,  for  the  tiny  masses  of  moulded 
sand  of  which  they  are  built  up  are  not  fitted  very  closely 
together  —  indeed  there  are  often  very  obvious  crannies 
and  openings  which  suggest  a  tube  of  rude  filigree  work 
rather  than  a  turret  of  solid  masonry.  It  is  evident 
enough  that  such  a  slight  edifice  is  not  meant  to  endure ; 
but  what,  in  that  case,  can  be  the  use  of  it?  And  why 
should  the  wasp  trouble  to  build  it  at  all  ?  The  pit  we  can 
understand;  that  is  going  to  be  a  nest  wherein  the  egg 
will  be  deposited;  but  the  purpose  of  the  outwork  is  not 
at  first  sight  so  clear.  Reaumur,  who  watched  these 
insects  working  both  long  and  patiently,  discovered  one 
possible  use  of  the  structure  when  he  observed  an  ichneu- 
mon-fly— that  tireless  and  terrible  enemy  of  other  insects — 
peer  into  the  top  of  the  tower  and  then  retreat,  apparently 
discouraged  in  his  felonious  intentions  by  the  depth  of 
the  dark  tunnel  by  which  he  was  confronted.  The  outwork, 
then,  is  of  service  in  keeping  out  malevolent  intruders 
while  the  cell  is  being  dug  and  provisioned;  but  that  is 
only  a  secondary  object,  and  conjecture  failing  us,  we  are 
enlightened  as  to  its  true  use  by  carefully  observing  the 
proceedings  of  the  Odynerus  herself.  Having  sunk  a 
shaft  to  the  depth  of  several  inches — deep  enough,  that 
is,  for  the  extremity  to  be  beyond  the  undue  influence  of 
extremes  of  heat  or  cold — the  wasp  goes  a-hunting  for  live 
caterpillars,  with  ten  or  twelve  of  which,  closely  packed, 
she  furnishes  her  larder.  With  them  she  places  an  egg,  and 
then  nothing  further  remains  to  be  done  except  to  fill  in 
the  upper  part  of  the  hole  in  order  to  make  all  snug  for 
the  future  grub.  It  is  at  this  stage  in  the  series  of 
K  149 


BEE   HODMEN 

operations  that  we  discover  the  use  of  that  puzzling  tower : 
it  proves  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  neat  stack  of  material 
held  in  readiness  to  plug  the  opening  of  the  tunnel.  In 
order  to  remove  the  sand  when  digging,  Odynerus  finds 
it  convenient  to  mould  it  into  little  bricks  ;  and  instead  of 
piling  them  in  an  untidy  heap  at  haphazard  about  the 
edges  of  the  pit,  like  a  good  workman  she  arranges  them 
in  a  neat  stack  where  they  will  be  ready  to  hand  when 
wanted,  and  where  they  serve  at  the  same  time  to  keep  out 
trespassers.  All  that  she  has  to  do  when  filling  up  the 
hole  is  to  moisten  the  top  of  the  tower  and  take  down  the 
'bricks'  one  by  one,  placing  them  inside  the  tunnel  until 
it  is  blocked  up  level  with  the  entrance.  The  cell  is  then 
completed;  the  wasp  has  made  every  possible  provision 
for  the  welfare  of  her  offspring,  and  the  grub  has  nothing 
whatever  to  concern  itself  with  from  its  birth  to  its  trans- 
formation but  devouring  the  ample  supply  of  succulent  food 
with  which  its  foreseeing  parent  has  provided  it. 

Some  of  the  flower  bees  (Anihophora)  follow  the  same 
routine  as  Odynerus  in  constructing  their  cells,  that  is  to 
say,  they  make  leaning  towers  which  are  afterwards  de- 
molished to  fill  up  the  holes. 

In  tropical  America,  where  the  European  hive  bee  is 
unknown,  its  place  is  taken  by  a  much  smaller  insect,  the 
Melipona  fasciculata,  which  has  no  sting,  but  bites  furiously 
when  disturbed.  This  bee  forms  big  colonies  and  the  workers 
go  about  collecting  pollen  like  other  bees,  but  they  also 
gather  clay,  and  their  movements  when  thus  engaged  are 
carried  out  with  great  precision.  They  dig  up  small  portions 
with  their  mandibles  and,  passing  them  from  paw  to  paw, 
they  load  up  the  'pollen-baskets'  on  their  hind  legs.  These 
bees  construct  their  combs  in  crevices  of  trees  or  banks,  and 
they  use  the  clay  to  build  stout  walls  in  front  of  the  nest, 

150 


PORCHES   AND  SENTINELS 

leaving  only  a  little  doorway  through  which  they  can  pass 
in  and  out.  One  small  species  adds  to  the  entrance  a  trumpet- 
shaped  porch  composed  of  clay  mixed  with  some  adhesive 
substance,  and  stations  a  number  of  sentinels  outside  to  keep 
guard. 


CHAPTER  IX 
MORE  MASONS 

Universal  favourites— Chimney  swallows — A  peculiar  taste— A  safe 
spot — Building  materials — House  martins — Firm  foundations — "  In 
the  weather  on  the  outward  wall" — A  piteous  sight— Australian 
relatives — Bottle  nests— Working  in  gangs — The  oven-bird's  home 
— "Johnny  Clay" — A  reputation  for  piety — A  well-built  house- 
Singing  duets — A  burial— The  Syrian  nuthatch— Love  of  building — 
Hornbills— A  willing  prisoner— Feeding  the  prisoners — Storming  the 
prison — A  miserable  object — Amphibians— The  family  genius — Frogs 
building  walls. 

A  LTHOUGH  at  first  sight  birds  appear  to  be  but  poorly 
/\  equipped  for  mason's  work — even  of  the  primitive 
kind  which  is  most  usual  amongst  animals,  that  is  to 
say,  the  building  of  mud  houses — yet  many  species  pursue 
this  industry  with  remarkable  success.  Amongst  these  birds 
two  kinds  are  well  known  to  everybody — the  swallow  and  the 
house  martin.  Because  of  their  association  with  the  coming 
of  summer,  their  swift,  graceful  movements  in  flight,  and 
their  delicately  clean,  spick-and-span  appearance,  few  birds 
are  more  gladly  welcomed  than  these  when  they  return 
home  to  our  shores  after  a  long  absence  in  the  South. 
Universal  favourites  as  they  are,  it  is  surprising — or  it 
should  be  so — how  many  people  fail  to  distinguish  the  two 
species,  notwithstanding  the  very  obvious  difference  between 
them ;  few  facts  show  more  clearly  how  lamentably  un- 
observant we  are,  and  how  completely  we  may  fail  to 
perceive  what  is  around  us. 

152 


CHIMNEY   SWALLOWS 

The  Swallow,  or  Chimney  Swallow  as  it  is  sometimes 
called  (Hirundo  rustica),  is  the  first  to  return  home,  usually 
arriving  about  the  middle  of  April.  It  frequents  the  dwell- 
ings of  men,  and  is  in  the  habit  of  nesting  under  the  open 
roofs  of  sheds,  against  the  rafters  of  barns  and  outhouses, 
on  the  cornices  of  disused  rooms,  under  porches,  and  even  in 
the  tops  of  chimneys.  The  last  named  was  its  favourite 
situation  in  Gilbert  White's  time,  but  the  modern  chimney- 
stack  with  its  rows  of  narrow  pots  and  patent  cowls 
must  seem  sadly  inhospitable  from  the  swallow's  point  of 
view !  Wherever  the  nest  is  placed,  it  is  almost  invariably 
in  a  situation  that  affords  shelter  from  rain,  which  would 
soon  reduce  it  to  a  shapeless  mass  of  mud.  "Here  and 
there,"  writes  Gilbert  White,  "  a  bird  may  affect  some  odd, 
peculiar  place ;  as  we  have  known  a  swallow  build  down  the 
shaft  of  an  old  well,  through  which  chalk  had  been  formerly 
drawn  up  for  the  purpose  of  manure :  but  in  general  with 
us  this  hirundo  breeds  in  chimneys ;  and  loves  to  haunt  those 
stacks  where  there  is  a  constant  fire,  no  doubt  for  the 
sake  of  warmth.  Not  that  it  can  subsist  in  the  immediate 
shaft  where  there  is  a  fire;  but  prefers  one  adjoining  to 
that  of  the  kitchen,  and  disregards  the  perpetual  smoke  of 
that  funnel,  as  I  have  often  observed  with  some  degree  of 
wonder. 

"  Five  or  six  or  more  feet  down  the  chimney  does  the  little 
bird  begin  to  form  her  nest  about  the  middle  of  May,  which 
consists,  like  that  of  the  house  martin,  of  a  crust  or  shell 
composed  of  dirt  or  mud,  mixed  with  short  pieces  of  straw 
to  render  it  tough  and  permanent ;  with  this  difference,  that 
whereas  the  shell  of  the  martin  is  nearly  hemispheric,  that 
of  the  swallow  is  open  at  the  top  and  like  half  a  deep  dish : 
this  nest  is  lined  with  fine  grasses,  and  feathers  which  are 
often  collected  as  they  float  in  the  air. 


HOUSE  MARTINS 

"Wonderful  is  the  address  which  this  adroit  bird  shows  all 
day  long  in  ascending  and  descending  with  security  through 
so  narrow  a  pass.  When  hovering  over  the  mouth  of 
the  funnel,  the  vibrations  of  her  wings  acting  on  the  con- 
fined air  occasion  a  rumbling  like  thunder.  It  is  not 
improbable  that  the  dam  submits  to  this  inconvenient 
situation  so  low  in  the  shaft,  in  order  to  secure  her  broods 
from  rapacious  birds,  and  particularly  from  owls,  which 
frequently  fall  down  chimneys,  perhaps  in  attempting  to  get 
at  these  nestlings." 

The  material  used  for  building  is  soft,  tenacious  earth  or 
mud,  which  the  bird  fetches  in  its  beak  and  agglutinates 
with  saliva,  the  admixture  of  the  latter  causing  the  mud  to 
set  very  hard  and  to  form  a  shell  stronger  and  tougher  than 
would  be  produced  by  the  drying  of  mud  alone.  In  favour- 
able weather  a  whole  nest  may  be  finished,  from  foundation 
to  lining,  in  about  -a  week.  The  same  nest  is  often  occupied 
for  several  successive  seasons. 

The  House  Martin  (Chelidon  urblca)  is  perhaps  a  more 
familiar  bird  than  the  swallow,  because  it  nests  in  situations 
where  it  is  more  easily  observed ;  usually,  but  not  invariably, 
against  the  side  of  some  building,  in  a  window  recess,  or 
under  the  eaves.  It  can,  however,  adapt  its  habits  to  the 
locality  it  happens  to  be  in,  and  when  remote  from  the 
neighbourhood  of  houses  it  not  uncommonly,  in  some  coun- 
tries, builds  in  steep  cliffs  and  rocky  river-banks.  But  as  its 
popular  name  indicates,  it  commonly  resorts  to  houses,  and 

no  jutty,  frieze, 

Buttress,  nor  coign  of  vantage,  but  this  bird 
Hath  made  his  pendent  bed  and  procreant  cradle. 

The  nest  is  more  elaborate  than  a  swallow's,  as  it  is  com- 
pletely closed  above  and  has  a  neat  round  opening  in  the 

154 


"ON  THE   OUTWARD   WALL" 

side.  When  it  is  placed  in  an  angle  formed  by  an  overhang- 
ing ledge  or  cornice,  its  shape  is  that  of  a  quarter  sphere ; 
sometimes,  however,  it  is  built  against  a  flat  surface,  and  not 
in  a  corner,  in  which  case  it  is  hemispherical  in  form.  It  is 
clear  that  the  safety  of  the  whole  structure  depends  upon 
the  firmness  with  which  the  foundations  are  fixed  to  the  wall, 
so  the  bird  devotes  a  great  deal  of  care  to  this  portion  of  its 
labours,  often  spending  a  week  or  more  over  laying  down  the 
rim  of  mud  which  has  to  bear  the  weight  of  the  whole 
dwelling.  By  working  only  in  the  early  morning,  ii  gives 
each  layer  time  to  dry  and  harden  ;  but  when  the  base  is 
quite  firm  and  secure  the  work  often  proceeds  more  rapidly. 
While  laying  the  foundation,  the  bird  not  only  clings  to  the 
wall  with  its  claws,  but  steadies  and  partly  supports  itself 
with  the  help  of  its  tail.  The  material  is  the  same  as  that 
used  by  the  swallow  and  is  carried  in  the  same  manner. 
Neither  the  swallow  nor  the  martin  has  a  very  capacious 
mouth,  so  many  hundreds  of  journeys  have  to  be  made  in 
order  to  cany  enough  mud  to  complete  the  nest.  Any  nest 
that  withstands  the  winter  weather  is  at  once  reoccupied 
when  the  birds  return.  The  construction  of  an  entirely  new 
nest  is  often  delayed  by  many  causes  :  the  weather  may  be 
either  too  wet  or  too  dry ;  in  either  case  there  is  difficulty  in 
obtaining  mud  of  the  right  consistency  or  in  getting  a  solid 
foundation.  The  martin  often  nests  in  far  more  exposed 
situations  than  the  swallow ;  she 

Builds  in  the  weather  on  the  outward  wall, 

and  much  labour  may  be  lost  thereby.  Gilbert  White 
mentions  such  a  case.  "  Birds  in  general,"  he  writes,  "  are 
wise  in  their  choice  of  situation  :  but  in  this  neighbourhood 
every  summer  is  seen  a  strong  proof  to  the  contrary  at  an 
house  without  eaves  in  an  exposed  district,  where  some 

155 


BOTTLE  NESTS 

martins  build  year  by  year  in  the  corners  of  the  windows. 
But,  as  the  corners  of  these  windows  (which  face  to  the 
south-east  and  south-west)  are  too  shallow,  the  nests  are 
washed  down  every  hard  rain ;  and  yet  these  birds  drudge  on 
to  no  purpose  from  summer  to  summer,  without  changing 
their  aspect  or  house.  It  is  a  piteous  sight  to  see  them 
labouring  when  half  their  nest  is  washed  away  and  bringing 
dirt  .  .  .  'generis  lapsi  sarcire  ruinas?"  In  spite  of  the 
difficulties  they  have  to  overcome,  the  martins  usually  con- 
trive to  raise  two  broods  in  the  course  of  a  summer,  and 
sometimes  even  a  third,  though  offspring  born  late  in  the 
season  not  uncommonly  perish  in  the  nest,  for  the  reason 
probably  that  the  parents  are  unable  to  provide  them  with 
sufficient  food  owing  to  the  increasing  scarcity  of  insects. 

In  Australia  our  house  martin  is  represented  by  the 
dainty  Ariel  Swallow,  or  Fairy  Martin  (Hirundo  ariel),  a 
little  bird  about  three  and  a  half  inches  in  length.  Its  nests 
are  frequently  crowded  together  under  eaves  of  houses, 
or  some  other  shelter,  such  as  that  afforded  by  an  overhang- 
ing rock. 

Gould  says:  "Hundreds  of  this  species  were  breeding 
under  the  verandahs  and  corners  of  the  windows,  precisely 
after  the  manner  of  the  common  martin.  .  .  .  The  nest, 
which  is  bottle-shaped  with  a  long  neck,  is  composed  of  mud 
or  clay,  and,  like  that  of  our  common  martin,  is  only  con- 
structed in  the  morning  and  evening,  unless  the  day  be  wet 
or  lowering.  While  building  these  nests  they  appear  to 
work  in  small  companies,  six  or  seven  assisting  in  the  forma- 
tion of  each,  one  of  them  remaining  within  and  receiving  the 
mud  brought  by  the  others  in  their  mouths.  In  shape  the 
nests  are  nearly  round,  but  vary  in  size  from  four  to  six 
inches  in  diameter,  the  spouts  being  eight,  nine,  or  ten 
in  length;  when  built  on  the  sides  of  rocks,  or  in  the 

156 


"JOHNNY  CLAY" 

hollows  of  trees,  they  are  placed  without  any  regular  order 
in  clusters  of  about  thirty  or  forty  together,  some  with  the 
spouts  inclining  downwards,  others  at  right  angles,  etc. ; 
they  are  lined  with  feathers  and  fine  grasses."  The  eggs  are 
usually  four  or  five  in  number,  and  marked  with  red  spots 
or  blotches  upon  a  white  ground ;  sometimes,  however,  they 
are  pure  white. 

Quite  the  most  remarkable  example  of  bird  masonry  is 
that  produced  by  the  famous  Oven-bird  (Furnarius  rufus\ 
one  of  the  cleverest  members  of  a  talented  family  to  which 
we  have  already  had  occasion  to  refer  in  a  previous  chapter. 
The  oven-birds  are  natives  of  South  America,  and  they  build 
nests  which  are  both  unique  in  architecture  and  in  solidity 
of  construction.  Burmeister  says  ;  "  When  we  have  passed 
the  lofty  mountain  chains  which  divide  the  vast  coast  forests 
of  Brazil  from  the  plains  of  the  campos,  and  descend  the 
hills  of  the  Rio  des  Velhas  valley,  there  on  all  sides  one 
notices  in  the  great  trees  which  stand  solitary  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  dwellings,  large  melon-shaped  masses  of  earth 
on  the  stout  spreading  branches.  Their  appearance  is 
striking.  You  might  take  them  to  be  the  nests  of  termites ; 
but  then,  they  have  an  opening  in  one  side,  and  they  are  all 
of  one  size,  and  shaped  alike,  while  the  constructions  of 
termites  are  irregular  in  form  and  are  never  placed  freely  on 
a  branch,  but  always  at  a  point  where  it  is  forked.  We  sbon 
find  out,  however,  what  is  the  true  nature  of  these  heaps  of 
earth ;  we  recognize  the  large  oval  aperture  at  the  side,  and 
presently  we  may  see  going  in  and  out  a  little  bird  with 
warm  brown  plumage ;  it  is  in  fact  a  bird's  nest,  that  of 
the  oven-bird,  known  to  every  native  by  the  name  of 
4  Johnny  Clay,'  Jodo  de  barro" 

The  Brazilians  look  upon  the  oven-bird  as  sacred.  Accord- 
ing to  them  it  has  a  religious  sense,  because,  they  say,  it 

157 


A  WELL-BUILT  HOUSE 

stops  working  on  Sunday,  and  always  turns  the  opening  of 
its  nest  towards  the  east. 

"  I  soon  found  out  that  there  was  no  foundation  for  the 
first  statement,"  says  Burmeister,  "and  I  succeeded  in  con- 
vincing several  of  the  natives  of  this.  The  belief  that  it 
does  no  work  on  Sunday  arises  from  the  rapidity  with  which 
it  performs  its  task.  If  this  be  commenced  in  the  early  part 
of  the  week,  it  is  sure  to  be  finished  before  the  following 
Sunday. 

"The  nest  is  wonderful,  if  we  consider  what  a  slender  little 
bird  it  is  that  makes  it.  It  is  usually  placed  on  a  horizontal 
bough  not  less  than  three  inches  in  thickness  •,  very  rarely  it 
may  be  seen  on  a  roof,  a  balcony,  the  cross  of  a  steeple,  etc. 
The  cock  and  hen  work  in  company.  They  begin  by  spreading 
a  layer  of  clay  softened  by  the  rains.  They  make  little  balls 
of  it  and  convey  them  to  the  tree,  where  they  spread  them  out 
with  the  aid  of  beak  and  claws.  When  the  bed  of  clay  is  about 
nine  or  ten  inches  across,  they  make  a  rim  all  round  it,  which 
slopes  slightly  outwards.  This  border  is  not  more  than  two 
and  a  half  inches  in  height,  but  it  is  more  elevated  at  the 
ends  than  in  the  middle,  and  is  fashioned  in  such  a  way  that 
the  surface  is  concave."  As  soon  as  the  ledge  is  dry  the 
birds  place  another  on  the  top  of  it,  similar  to  the  first,  but 
inclined  a  little  inwards,  and  this  is  repeated  until  the  dome 
is  completed.  A  high,  narrow  opening  with  a  curved  margin 
is  left  in  one  side  of  the  edifice;  this  doorway  is  usually 
about  four  inches  high  and  little  more  than  two  inches  wide. 
When  the  structure  is  finished  it  looks  rather  like  a  small 
oven,  and  weighs  about  nine  pounds.  The  wall  on  the  right 
of  the  opening  curves  inward,  and  is  continued  in  the  form  of 
a  partition  from  floor  to  dome.  A  second  opening  placed 
high  up  at  the  inner  end  of  the  partition  leads  into  an  inner 
chamber,  where  the  true  nest  of  dry  grass,  feathers,  cotton, 

158 


THE   SYRIAN  NUTHATCH 

and  other  soft  materials  is  placed.  Five  white  eggs  are  laid, 
and  the  parents  incubate  them  by  turns. 

Mr.  Hudson  mentions  a  very  curious  fact  in  connexion 
with  the  song  of  these  birds,  which  appears  to  be,  like  their 
nest,  unique.  "  On  meeting,  the  male  and  female,  standing 
close  together  and  facing  each  other,  utter  their  clear  ringing 
concert,  one  emitting  loud  single  measured  notes,  while  the 
notes  of  its  fellow  are  rapid,  rhythmical  triplets ;  their  voices 
have  a  joyous  character,  and  seem  to  accord,  thus  producing 
a  kind  of  harmony.  It  is  very  curious  that  the  young  birds, 
when  only  partially  fledged,  are  constantly  heard  in  the  nest 
or  oven  apparently  practising  these  duets  in  the  intervals 
when  the  parents  are  absent,  notes  utterly  unlike  the  hunger 
cry,  which  is  like  that  of  other  fledglings."  The  same 
gentleman  also  relates  a  strange  story  of  some  oven-birds 
whose  oven  was  built  on  the  end  of  a  beam  which  projected 
from  the  wall  of  a  neighbour's  rancho  at  Buenos  Ayres. 
One  of  the  pair  had  both  legs  crushed  in  a  steel  rat-trap ; 
on  being  liberated,  it  flew  to  the  oven  and  was  seen  no  more, 
having  probably  bled  to  death.  Its  mate  uttered  shrill 
cries  incessantly  for  some  days,  but  on  receiving  no  answer  it 
left  the  neighbourhood.  Three  days  later  it  returned  with 
a  new  mate,  and  the  two  birds  at  once  got  to  work  and  built 
up  the  doorway  of  the  oven,  thus  converting  it  into  an 
aerial  tomb,  on  the  top  of  which  they  built  a  second  oven. 
Mr.  Hudson's  neighbour  was  an  old  native,  and  it  was  not 
strange,  he  adds,  that  "  after  witnessing  the  entombment  of 
one  that  died,  he  was  more  convinced  than  ever  that  the 
little  house  builders  are  pious  birds." 

The  Syrian  Nuthatch  (Sitta  neumayeri)  is  also  a  mud- 
builder  ;  it  makes  its  nest  on  the  face  of  steep,  overhanging 
rocks,  choosing,  when  possible,  a  situation  with  an  easterly 
aspect.  Mr.  Seebohm  observed  them  in  the  crags  about 

159 


A  WILLING  PRISONER 

Smyrna,  and  he  describes  the  nest  as  a  very  curious  structure. 
He  says:  "A  recess  in  the  rock  is  selected,  and  a  funnel  made 
of  mud  and  little  bits  of  dry  grass  is  built  in  front  of  it. 
It  is  quite  an  important  affair;  the  base  is  frequently 
twenty-four  inches  in  circumference,  and  the  walls  vary  in 
thickness  from  half  an  inch  to  an  inch  and  a  half.  The  tube 
of  the  funnel,  which  of  course  serves  for  the  ingress  and 
egress  of  the  bird,  is  about  four  inches  long,  with  an  internal 
diameter  of  an  inch  and  a  quarter  at  the  'entrance.  The 
outside  of  the  nest  is  carefully  made  to  resemble  the  appear- 
ance of  the  rock  against  which  it  is  built.  One  which 
I  brought  home  with  me  is  curiously  corrugated  or  granu- 
lated, to  imitate  the  calcareous  deposits  on  the  inside  of  the 
cave  where  I  found  it.  The  nest  is  warmly  lined  with  goats' 
wool,  thistle-down,  and  all  sorts  of  soft  materials."  It  has 
been  stated  that  the  entrance  funnel  may  be  as  much  as 
a  foot  in  length,  and  that  the  outside  of  the  nest  is  some- 
times covered  with  the  wing-cases  of  beetles.  This  bird 
is  said  to  take  extraordinary  pleasure  In  building,  and  to 
construct  nests  which  it  will  never  use,  or  repair  others  in 
which  it  has  no  personal  interest. 

Those  remarkable  Old  World  birds  the  Hornbills  (Bucero- 
tidoe\  whose  immensely  developed  bill  gives  them  such  a 
grotesque  appearance,  should  be  mentioned  in  connexion 
with  the  masons,  for  though  the  works  they  have  occasion 
to  undertake  are  by  no  means  elaborate,  they  are  remarkable 
for  their  strength  and  solidity. 

The  nesting  habits  of  these  birds  are  most  interesting 
and  peculiar.  The  eggs  are  deposited  in  the  hollow  of  a 
tree,  and  when  the  time  comes  to  incubate,  the  hen  bird 
retires  to  the  cavity  and  is  there  carefully  walled  in  by  her 
mate,  who  leaves  only  a  narrow  slit  at  the  top  of  the  hole 
through  which  she  can  protrude  the  end  of  her  bill.  The  im- 

160 


FEEDING  THE  PRISONERS 

prisonment  is  voluntary,  for  the  female  often  assists  in  build- 
ing the  wall,  which  appears  to  be  intended  to  afford  her  protec- 
tion against  the  attacks  of  monkeys  and  the  great  monitor 
lizards  which  climb  trees  and  work  much  havoc  amongst 
their  feathered  inhabitants.  It  is  likely,  too,  that  the 
process  of  moulting  is  more  safely  completed  whilst  the  bird 
is  thus  incarcerated;  some  species,  at  all  events,  moult  at 
this  time,  and  Bernstein  suggested  that  the  barricade  might 
be  intended  merely  to  prevent  the  hen  bird  from  falling  out 
of  the  nest,  for  the  latter  being  usually  at  no  small  distance 
from  the  ground,  she  would,  with  scarcely  a  quill  remaining 
in  her  wings,  be  unable  to  fly  back  again  after  such  an 
accident. 

Whatever  the  object  of  the  wall  may  be,  there  is  no 
doubt  about  it  being  an  efficient  barrier,  for  it  is  of  extreme 
hardness  when  dry,  and  very  difficult  to  break  down.  It  is 
made  of  mud,  clay,  and  dirt,  combined  in  some  cases,  it 
appears,  with  various  gums,  and  in  building  it  up  the  birds 
use  their  great  bills  like  trowels. 

The  imprisonment  lasts  until  the  young  are  almost  or 
quite  fully  fledged,  and  during  the  whole  period  the  male 
bird  is  kept  busily  employed  in  supplying  his  mate,  and 
later  on  his  family  also,  with  the  food  which  they  are  unable, 
in  their  helpless  condition,  to  procure  for  themselves.  If  he 
be  killed  at  this  time,  other  males  are  said  to  undertake  the 
task  of  bringing  in  supplies.  By  the  time  the  nestlings  are 
strong  enough  to  be  released  the  male  bird  is  usually  *  worn 
to  a  shadow '  by  his  heavy  responsibilities. 

Writing  of  the  Great  Pied  Hornbill  (Dkhoceros  bicornis) — 
the  largest  member  of  the  family,  measuring  almost  five  feet 
in  length — and  of  its  nesting  habits  in  Tenasserim,  Colonel 
Tickell  says  that  having  heard  of  a  pair  that  had  nested  in 
the  same  spot  for  several  years  he  "  lost  no  time  in  going  to 

161 


STORMING  THE   PRISON 

the  place  .  .  .  and  was  shown  a  hole  high  up  in  the  trunk 
of  a  moderately  large  straight  tree,  branchless  for  about 
fifty  feet  from  the  ground,  in  which  he  was  told  the  female 
lay  concealed.  The  hole  was  covered  with  a  thick  layer  of 
mud,  all  but  a  small  space,  through  which  she  could  thrust 
the  end  of  her  bill,  and  so  receive  food  from  the  male.  One 
of  the  villagers  at  length  ascended  with  great  labour  by 
means  of  bamboo-pegs  driven  into  the  trunk,  and  com- 
menced digging  out  the  clay  from  the  hole.  While  so 
employed,  the  female  kept  uttering  her  rattling  sonorous 
cries,  and  the  male  remained  perched  on  a  neighbouring  tree, 
sometimes  flying  to  and  fro  and  coming  close  to  us.  Of  him 
the  natives  appeared  to  entertain  great  dread,  saying  that  he 
was  sure  to  assault  them ;  and  it  was  with  some  difficulty 
that  I  prevented  them  from  shooting  him  before  they  con- 
tinued their  attack  on  the  nest.  When  the  hole  was 
sufficiently  enlarged,  the  man  who  had  ascended  thrust  in 
his  arm,  but  was  so  soundly  bitten  by  the  female,  whose 
cries  had  become  perfectly  desperate,  that  he  quickly  with- 
drew it,  narrowly  escaping  a  tumble  from  his  frail  foot- 
ing. After  wrapping  his  hands  in  some  folds  of  cloth,  he 
succeeded  with  some  trouble  in  extracting  the  bird,  a 
miserable-looking  object  enough,  wasted  and  dirty.  She 
was  handed  down  and  let  loose  on  the  ground,  where  she 
hopped  about,  unable  to  fly,  and  menacing  the  bystanders 
with  her  bill,  and  at  length  ascended  a  small  tree,  where  she 
remained,  being  too  stiff  to  use  her  wings.  At  the  bottom 
of  the  hole,  nearly  three  feet  from  the  orifice,  was  a  solitary 
egg,  resting  upon  mad,  fragments  of  bark,  and  feat  hers. " 

Frogs,  toads,  and  other  amphibians  are  but  poor  exponents 
of  the  arts  and  crafts.  In  this  book  we  shall  scarcely  have 
occasion  to  mention  more  than  one  member  of  that  great 
class,  and  on  the  whole  it  will,  perhaps,  be  best  to  include 

162 


FROGS   BUILDING  WALLS 

our  solitary  craftsman  in  the  present  chapter,  though  his 
'masonry1  is  nothing  more  than  a  rampart  or  crater  of 
soft  mud. 

The  animal  in  question  is  called  by  naturalists  Hyla 
faber,  and  is  one  of  the  largest  of  the  tree  frogs.  Its  home 
is  in  Brazil,  where  it  is  known  as  the  Ferreiro,  or  smith,  and 
it  is  quite  the  genius  of  its  family.  During  the  breeding 
season  the  female  frog  builds  regular  nests  in  the  shallow 
margins  of  ponds  and  marshes.  She  dives  to  the  bottom  of 
the  water  and  in  her  two  hands  takes  up  masses  of  mud, 
which  she  places  side  by  side  in  such  a  way  as  to  form  a 
circular  wall,  enclosing  a  space  about  a  foot  in  diameter. 
She  continues  to  build  in  this  manner  until  the  wall  gradu- 
ally reaches  the  top  of  the  water,  and  at  length  stands  up 
for  the  height  of  about  four  inches  above  the  surface,  when 
it  has  the  appearance  of  a  miniature  crater  of  a  volcano. 
The  parapet  is  smoothed  most  carefully  on  the  inner  side, 
and  for  this  purpose  the  frog  uses  its  broad,  flat  hands  like 
trowels.  The  bottom  of  the  little  pond  or  crater  is  also 
made  quite  even  by  the  under  surfac  *  *he  animal's  body, 
aided  by  its  hands.  The  building  ^5  carnta*  on  during  the 
hours  after  sunset,  when  these  creatures  are  most  active,  and 
by  the  end  of  the  second  night  the  nest  is  completed  and 
quite  ready  to  receive  the  eggs.  It  no  doubt  affords  excel- 
lent protection  against  their  enemies  for  both  the  eggs  and, 
later  on,  the  tadpoles. 

The  male  frog  gives  no  assistance  whatever  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  the  nest ;  both  parents,  however,  usually  remain  in 
its  vicinity  afterwards  and  appear  to  keep  an  eye  on  it. 


163 


PLYMOUTH 
BRKNDON  AND  SON, 
FR  INTERS 


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